


Kings and Queens of Promise

by Cassy27



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Asshole Fandral, Asshole Volstagg, But he's not a rapist, Loki doesn't take anyone's shit, M/M, Sif is awesome, Thor is a dick, War, spoil of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war between Jotunheim and Asgard has been long, brutal and bloody. After another battle, Loki is taken prisoner and made a spoil of war to Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard. But Loki refuses to be reduced to Thor’s whore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am posting another story. What am I thinking? 
> 
> The title comes from a 30 Seconds To Mars song. 
> 
> A thousand times thank you to Greenloki for being my beta! You rock, girl!

The smell of blood and death hung in the air.

Loki slowly took in the ruin surrounding him. Warriors looked tired, but victorious, dark circles around their triumphant eyes, but nothing in their behavior affirmed that they had indeed won the long and laborious battle in this even longer and more tiresome war. The warriors simply gathered the weapons of their fallen comrades and collected the swords from their enemy which they would melt down and forge into new weapons. Corpses were laid out next to each other, awaiting burial, and Loki couldn’t help but search for familiar faces.

Crushed and drained, he cast down his emerald green eyes and stared at the rope binding his wrists together. He had already tried to break free of the restraints, but the skin of his wrists had merely turned red, burned, until a few drops of blood had slipped down his fingers, telling him that it was pointless.

“Is this everything?”

The new voice made Loki’s head snap upward, gaze instantly seeking whoever had spoken. There was no denying the new level of authority that had laced that voice and, for one brief moment, Loki feared that Odin Allfather, king of Asgard, had approached. He was wrong, however, much to his relief. Instead, he found a young man having joined them. He was taller than the others, more muscled, too. He had shoulder-long blond hair, now dirtied with mud and blood, which stuck to the sides of his face which was covered with a thin layer of sweat. Bright blue eyes took in the prisoners lined before him and when Loki felt that too vibrant gaze on him, he had to suppress a shudder.

Whoever that man was, he was important and he was in charge. Loki knew his life, and those of fellow captives, depended on whatever that man would decide. It was strange to be faced with the one person in the world that had control of his destiny.

“I’m afraid so,” Another man spoke – the one who had been in charge so far. Loki despised him with every fiber in his being. He was too … flamboyant to be a warrior, a _true_ warrior. His beard was neatly trimmed, his armor polished to a shine and while he carried wounds from battle, Loki didn’t think he was the kind of man willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of another. “When Laufey ordered his men to retreat, they all scattered into different directions, like the rats they are. They only left behind the severely injured.”

Loki’s hands turned to fists. He wanted to strangle that man, or perhaps poke his eyes out with his dagger. Laufey, king of Jotunheim, his king _and_ father, had indeed ordered his men to fall back, but there was no shame in retreat. Laufey had merely recognized that the battle was lost and instead of sacrificing the lives of his men, he had saved them.

“And these?” The new man asked, those blue eyes still examining all the faces of the prisoners before him.

Loki prayed to all the gods that he wouldn’t be recognized, and it seemed the gods were listening. Then again, Loki was never one to live in the spotlight. He left that to his older brother and today it worked to his advantage.

“They were captured as they tried to run or help their injured. Your father ordered us to take as many prisoners of war as possible.”

The man in charge – Loki could have sworn he had seen him before, but he could not place him – walked up and down the line of captives, taking them in. Loki, along with his fellow compatriots, lowered his gaze. Now was not the time to attract any form of attention.

“These won’t be enough,” The man said, and Loki could see from the corner of his eyes how he shook his head, his blond hair shifting over his broad, armored shoulders. “How many are there?”

“Forty-three, my lord.”

Again, the man shook his head, and if Loki wasn’t mistaken, he recognized disappointment in those bright blue eyes. Loki didn’t understand what that meant, but it certainly wouldn’t be positive. Then again, could any decision regarding his and his fellow captives’ lives be positive, hopeful? Loki wasn’t that naïve.

“Kill them.”

Emerald green eyes widened in shock and anger. Without thinking, without considering the consequences, Loki looked up, his head snapping toward the blond man.

“ _No_ ,” He protested loudly.

Every pair of eyes around him focused on him suddenly. Loki could feel his heart thrum within his chest, could feel his blood surging through his veins and singing in his ears. He watched as the blond man with the shining armor stepped toward him and before Loki understood what would happen, he felt a fist knock against the side of his face, a sharp pain making him groan quietly. The sensation of warm blood dripping down from his nose made him shudder.

Still, it wasn’t enough to silence him. Loki refused to accept death at the hands of his enemies.

Shaking away the dizziness that claimed him, he took a step forward, leaving the line, and turned to look at the man who was in charge. Blue eyes widened with disbelief, faint shock, but mostly, with amusement.

“You took us prisoner,” Loki said confidently, staring directly into those blue eyes, fearless. “And now you are just going to kill us? You are barbaric!”

“This–” The man began as he slowly made his way back to Loki. “–is war.”

Loki knew well enough that his boldness could easily be described as foolishness, but they were all dead already. His protests could not give them a fate worse than that. No, Loki felt he had to do something, had to try and keep them all alive.

“Release us,” He demanded.

There was a long moment of silence.

His own heavy and labored breathing was all Loki could hear, could focus on, and then the blonde with a goatee began to laugh. The others instantly joined him. Loki stared at them, wishing them all dead, but the fact remained that he was bound and at the mercy of that other blond bastard. He remained focused on him, remained staring into those cold and calculated blue eyes, refusing to be the one to break eye-contact.

“Why would I do that?” The man eventually asked when he stood in front of Loki. All around him, the warriors grew still. “So you can rejoin your king’s army and kill me and my men during the next battle?”

Loki vowed to himself that, if released, he would seek out this man and slay him himself. He craved to slit his throat, to feel his warm blood stain his hands, but Loki knew his vow was nothing more than a fantasy. He knew freedom was not an option, but that did not mean he would simply accept his fate.

“Then hold us prisoner until this war has ended,” He tried stubbornly.

“Let me kill him for you, my lord.”

The man lifted a hand, ordering his warrior to halt – which he immediately did. Those blue eyes never left Loki, however, and the edges of his lips curved upward ever so slightly as he gazed at him, seemingly taking in every detail of the prisoner standing before him, tall and brave.

“You are very … vocal,” He said. “Almost dauntless. Do you not know who I am?”

Loki exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm, because yes, he appeared dauntless, but he did not feel it.

“Should I know you?” He asked, his eyebrows shooting up a little as if challenging the man. It was a mistake, he knew that, but Loki simply refused to succumb to his fear.

“I am Thor Odinson,” The man explained, his head cocked to his right, blue staring straight into green. “First son of Odin Allfather, Prince of Asgard.”

Loki let the words sink in. He had seen Odin Allfather enough times during his life and finally he understood why the man standing in front of him looked so familiar even though he knew he had never met him before this day. Thor looked like his father, having the same bodily build, the same aloof gaze in their equally blue eyes, and the same level of obnoxiousness and arrogance.

“Then you have the power to spare our lives,” Loki settled on.

“My lord,” The blonde warrior said, approaching Thor and placing a casual hand against his shoulder. A ghost of a smirk filled his sharp features – Loki could tell he was the kind of man who was well aware of his own beauty, which in turn only made him look pretentious and vain. “We are wasting our time so let me propose another deal. Since this one is vociferous about living, then let him live.”

Loki’s green eyes narrowed, his gaze taking in the expression on the warrior’s face, not liking it at all. His attention instantly shifted back toward Thor as he chuckled softly, smugly. He took a step back, blue eyes raking up and down Loki’s body – Loki who couldn’t help but take a step back, away from Thor and his warrior.

“What a marvelous idea,” Thor said, nodding, amiably knocking a hand against the back of the warrior’s shoulder. “I shall keep him as a personal treat.”

“What?” Loki stumbled back, hands instinctively moving to try and rid them of the rope binding them together, until a strong pair of hands folded around his upper arms, shoving him forward again. Loki feverishly tried to free himself from the hold, but the hands were too strong. He turned to look over his shoulder, finding another warrior – broad, fat, and with long ginger hair and a thick ginger beard – smirking down at him. “No, let me go!” He demanded idly. Loki, still struggling, locked gazes with Thor. “Let me go,” He demanded again. “I would rather die!”

“You wanted to live,” The blond warrior said gleefully. He waved a hand at the fat warrior, giving him a silent order, telling him to follow, and began walking away from the other prisoners. Loki, desperately trying to pull his arms free, had no choice but to walk when the fat warrior forced him to. “And now you shall be our Prince’s spoil of war,” He continued, smiling. “There are worse fates.”

“Death is favorable,” Loki spit out. He glanced around, as if searching for help, but there was no-one. Behind him, he could hear the screams and wails of agony and fear followed by the sound of swords cutting through flesh. His fellow prisoners, his people, were being slaughtered like animals, dishonorably.

“These Jotuns,” The blonde sighed dramatically. “Never pleased.”

The fat warrior laughed.

“Let me go!” Loki screamed and, in a fit of rage, he somehow managed to pull free. Perhaps the fat warrior laughing had distracted him, had made him loosen his grip, but Loki didn’t care for the reason behind it. Without thinking, he stormed toward the blond warrior and knocked his fists against his face, the sound of bone breaking – the warrior’s nose – leaving a satisfied grin on Loki’s face before the fat warrior grabbed hold of him again.

“You fucking whore!” The man cursed, hands flying up to cover his bleeding nose.

Loki called it retribution.

“That wasn’t very nice,” The fat warrior sighed, dragging Loki along with him toward a camp that was filled with hundreds and hundreds of tents.

The sight left Loki momentarily speechless. He knew of Odin Allfather’s strength, of the impressive number of men he had at his disposal, all trained since childhood to became warriors, killing machines, but to actually see them all together was breathtaking, and not in the good sense of the word. The fight left Loki who could only stare around him and take in the details of the tent. The men, all winding down after the battle, hardly spared him a glance and for that Loki was grateful.

It was only when Volstagg shoved him into a tent that Loki found his will to fight again. He struggled, pulling at his arms and kicking out with his feet, but it was pointless. The fat warrior simply forced him down on the bed inside the luxurious tent and held him down while the blond warrior attached another piece of rope to his left ankle, binding it to the leg of the bed. Loki fought as hard as he could, but as soon as the two warriors stepped away from them, he knew he wouldn’t be able to break free.

The two men grinned down at him, laughing at his difficult predicament, while Loki hurriedly scuffled off of the bed. With his ankle tied down, however, he couldn’t move far, so he chose to sit down on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them which wasn’t easy with how his wrists were still tied together as well.

The warriors left a moment later, conversing and laughing and seemingly having the time of their life, and Loki cursed them. He vowed to kill them for it, slowly and painfully, but none of that changed the fact that he was a prisoner, that he’d been made a spoil of war, a disgraceful fate for anyone. Releasing a breath he hadn’t known to be holding, Loki lowered his head.

He should have kept his mouth shut.

-x-x-x-

After finally having overcome his panic, Loki shifted from where he sat and blinked away the tears that were threatening to slip from the corner of his eyes. He forced himself to undertake action, because sitting there, on the verge of crying, would do him no good. Besides, he was hardly the kind of man to simply undergo whatever life threw his way. He was much too stubborn for that.

Rising to his feet, he inhaled deeply to steady himself, to clear his mind, and then started thinking of ways he could escape, because that was all that mattered; escape, _freedom_. He glanced around in search of weapons, but he found nothing of use. No swords or daggers or knives lay around the tent. There was not even a mirror he could smash into a dozen pieces as to use a shard to cut himself free.

His fear and panic were slowly being overtaken by anger and frustration. He was _Loki_ , second son of Laufey, Prince of Jotunheim, known by his own people for his determination and cleverness, yet here he was, a captive to Thor Odinson, a spoil of war. The idea alone caused bile to rise up in his throat.

With no items around to use as a possible weapon, Loki settled on focusing on the rope binding him. He had been unable to free his wrists before, but perhaps he could untie his ankle from the bed and simply make a run for it. Chances of actually getting away were small, make that non-existent, but the chances of getting killed were significantly larger, and at this point in time, Loki much preferred death over being Thor Odinson’s whore.

To his utter fury, the rope around his ankle had been knotted tightly. Loki desperately pulled at it, clawing away at the rope until his nails bled, but nothing changed. Feeling defeated, condemned and disgraced, Loki lowered his head, emerald green eyes falling shut. He needed to stay calm, needed to keep a clear head, but it was getting harder and harder to do so with every second that ticked by. He was trapped with no-one coming to his aid, his father and brother probably thinking him dead already.

He should be dead.

His panic welled up within him again, his limbs trembling ever so slightly.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Loki lifted his head, his eyes widening with fear and dread. For a brief moment, he prayed that those footsteps would pass by the tent, but of course luck was not on his side today. Jumping up to his feet, he moved away from the bed as far as possible – which wasn’t far at all, the rope tying him to the bed being only six feet long. He tugged at it one final time, but he only hurt himself more, the skin of his left ankle already red and severely chafed.

The flap of the tent was pushed aside and Thor walked in, a complacent smile on his face, his blue eyes instantly seeking out Loki–

–Loki who tried to make himself as small as possible because he was no fool. He could see the muscles lining that man’s body, could see the broadness to his shoulders, and while Thor was taller than him by only an inch or two, there was no denying that he was stronger than him, that he could and would win any given battle against him.

Loki swallowed heavily and forced himself to keep breathing, but there was no denying the fear filling his emerald green eyes, fear that seemed to amuse Thor. It ignited an entirely new fire inside of him, fueling his rage, filling him with hostility and bitterness.

“Stay away from me,” He warned. He was well aware, however, that whatever threat he wanted to throw in Thor’s direction would be hollow. He held no power here, but that did not mean he would not fight, that he would simply lay back, spread his legs and just take it. He was not a whore and he would rather die than become Thor’s _plaything_.

Thor stepped around the bed, his steps slow and calculated and confident. He moved closer toward Loki, looking down at him, his smug smile still in place, and Loki wanted to carve it from his lips, his fingers itching to hurt him, but instead he found himself pushing back against the wall of the tent. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. He had to fight, yes, but to what end? To be killed? He didn’t believe Thor would be that merciful.

Large, meaty hands curled around his arms with a swiftness Loki hadn’t thought the man could possess, and it caused him to freeze up momentarily. He was forced to stand and a muffled whimper left his lips. Loki cursed himself for it and forced away the tears threatening to break free again. He shook his head and tried to pull away from Thor as much as possible, forcing himself not to break down, not now, not _ever_. The idea of Thor wanting him made him feel disgusted and horrified, yes, but nothing was lost yet, was it?

A soft voice in the back of his head whispered to him that he was already lost, that fighting was useless.

He refused to listen to it.

Thor’s grip on his arms was too tight and Loki knew he was unable to free himself. Without thinking, though knowing he had to stay focused on his anger rather than on his fear, he glared into Thor’s elated and greedy eyes before spitting in his face, aiming for the eye, but having to be content that he’d hit the cheek instead.

“You have no honor,” He hissed.

Thor, cursing under his breath, violently shoved him aside, knocking him against the side of the bed.

Loki fell back onto the mattress and quickly scurried away, needing to put as much distance between him and Thor as possible. He watched with amusement-filled eyes as the _golden Prince of Asgard_ slowly wiped away the spit from his face, obviously dismayed at the disrespectful act. This time, it was Loki who smirked and _oh_ , he would definitely spit at him again given the chance.

“You owe me your life,” Thor stated blandly after a short silence.

Loki would have been bewildered at the words if they hadn’t pissed him off so much.

“I owe you nothing,” He snapped. All the fear and desperation and panic he had felt just a moment ago made place for newfound anger and ferocity.

With a feral growl, Thor grabbed hold of the rope binding Loki to the bed and simply pulled him closer again.

Loki’s heart skipped a beat when he found himself helpless, that he could do nothing against Thor’s strength, but he wasn’t done fighting just yet. He clutched the edge of the bed, refusing to be pulled any closer toward Thor and kicked out his foot. He hit the side of Thor’s chest with enough force to know that he would have a bruise come morning.

Thor produced a pained sound and bared his teeth, his usually so very bright eyes now darkening. His hands seized Loki’s feet midair and held them there with ease.

“No, stop,” Loki shouted, _screamed,_ when Thor forced his legs apart. He tried to pull his feet free, tried to twist away from him, but Thor merely held them as he knelt down on the bed, fingers digging painfully deep into the skin of his ankles. Loki could only lay on his back, on the bed, trying his hardest not to think of what Thor would do to him now, trying to not to think what it would feel like to have his filthy hands on his naked body.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard!”

“Resistance won’t help,” Thor said.

Loki pressed his lips together and held his breath when he realized he was crying, actually _crying_ , tears streaming down his face. He cursed himself to the blatant display of weakness, hated himself for crying in front of Thor who so obviously reveled at his hopelessness, his despair. Petrified, Loki shook his head, looking up at Thor and staring into his blue eyes.

“Please,” He said more softly, addressing what he hoped was a shred of humanity left inside Thor’s warped mind – because one had to be depraved to take a man prisoner like this. “Please, just let me go.”

“Tears won’t help either.”

“You son of a–” Before he could finish the insult – not one of his best – the flap to the tent was pushed aside again. Both his and Thor’s attention turned to the person having entered, and Loki was shocked to find a woman standing there, her dark brown eyes taking in the scene before her, her hands resting on the various weapons attached to her armor. Loki would have frowned at her – a woman as a _warrior_ – if he hadn’t been so relieved at her entrance.

“Your father holds council in ten minutes,” She announced.

She was smaller than Thor, yet she somehow managed to look as fierce as him. She also managed to look _down_ at him which was an odd sight, certainly so when Thor met her gaze with nothing but respect. It made Loki wonder who exactly this woman was, but right now he could only think that he had to be quiet. It was best not to attract too much attention at this point, though his labored breathing was all that filled the tent it seemed.

“Can’t you see I’m rather busy?” Thor asked.

Loki wanted to rip out the man’s tongue and then feed it to him.

“You’re to be there, Thor,” The woman warned, his brown eyes narrowing.

Huffing, Thor released Loki’s ankles and stepped away from the bed. “You spoil my fun, Sif.”

Loki quickly rolled off of the bed, pressing himself into the furthest small corner he could reach, holding his tied hands close to his chest, and glared at Thor who simply smiled back at him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Thor grinned dirtily before exiting the tent.

The woman, Sif, cast one last look in his direction and then left the tent as well.

There was a beat, a moment of complete and utter silence, and then Loki frantically set to rid himself of the rope once again, tugging at the knot around his ankle, uncaring of how it scraped his skin, how it caused his nails to bleed. He needed to get free, one way or another.


	2. Chapter 2

He had tried his hardest not to fall asleep, but after the long and tiresome battle yesterday – both against Odin Allfather’s army _and_ against his bastard of a son – Loki had found himself exhausted. He’d been afraid to fall asleep, though, afraid of what would happen should Thor find him in such a vulnerable position, but no matter how hard he’d fought to stay awake, his emerald green eyes had drifted shut and he’d dreamed of home, of his father and his brother, of being free of the hell he was currently living in.

It was hours later that he woke and, for one brief moment, he hoped to be in his own bedchambers, to be back in the capitol of Jotunheim, surrounded by the familiar faces of friends and family, but his hopes were easily crushed when he felt rope still burning the skin of his left ankle and both his wrists.

He blinked open his eyes, chasing away any drowsiness, before he searched for his captor, praying with all his heart to find no-one present, but there he sat, Thor Odinson, positioned at a small table on the other side of the tent.

“Good morning,” Thor smiled radiantly when he noticed Loki staring at him. He seemingly hadn’t a care in the world. Perhaps he hadn’t. His blue eyes connected with Loki’s green ones, and if he noticed Loki’s irritation and hostility – which wasn’t hard to miss really – he made no note of it.

“Did you sleep well? I returned last night to find you passed out and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

Loki stared coldly at him, his lips pressed together, forbidding himself from speaking, because he knew that if he were to say something, nothing good would come of it. He was still tucked away in a corner of the tent, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. Loki groaned quietly, every bone and muscle in his body sore and aching. It definitely hadn’t been a comfortable position to sleep in, but he preferred this kind of uncomfortableness over the pain he would be in should Thor … He refused to give it any thought.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, which wasn’t easy considering his hands were still bound together, and he certainly wasn’t moving elegantly, but Loki couldn’t care less about appearances. His first instinct was to search for a weapon, hoping that Thor had been careless and left something within his reach, but he found nothing, and Loki cursed under his breath.

“You must be hungry,” Thor said after a short silence.

It drew back Loki’s attention and Thor motioned toward the table that was filled with food. Loki didn’t like the way Thor was speaking to him – as if he was a guest rather than a prisoner – but he said nothing, too stubborn to speak.

“Let’s have breakfast.”

With calculated steps, Loki approached the table, the rope around his ankle just long enough to allow him to take a seat opposite Thor. He had a feeling that Thor had made it specifically so and it only made Loki hate him that much more.

He glanced at the food before him, which wasn’t all that much, but the sight of bread, cheese, ham and water made him acutely aware of the fact that he was indeed hungry – make that starving. Last time he’d eaten was before the battle and that was now over a day ago.

But Loki couldn’t trust Thor, or maybe he didn’t _want_ to trust him. He certainly didn’t want to accept any form of kindness from him, if this could even be considered a kindness. There was no telling why Thor was offering him breakfast, but there had to be reason. Perhaps he would expect something in return – Loki shuddered when remembering what exactly Thor wanted of him.

He eyed the food suspiciously, as if worms and maggots would crawl from it at any given moment, and it helped him manage his hunger a little better.

“It’s not poisoned if that is what you’re concerned about,” Thor noted. He grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed his mouth full. He continued to speak, his words muffled now, hardly comprehensible. “After all, why would I want to kill you?”

Loki pulled a face at him, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Thor was distasteful in every way possible – which wasn’t that much of a surprise.

“You had no problem killing all the other prisoners,” He said, leaning back in the chair, his eyes trailing every movement Thor made, no matter how small or insignificant, anticipating … _something_. His bound hands remained motionless in his lap, though they balled into fists, unwilling to touch the food. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t kill me, too.”

Thor swallowed away the bread before reaching across the table, Loki instantly tensing at the movement, pressing himself back into the chair. It earned him an amused look from Thor as he grabbed an empty goblet that had clearly been intended for Loki and filled it with water. Bringing it to his lips, Thor took a small sip, his blue gaze – vibrant with beguilement – staring intensely into Loki’s as he did, and Loki couldn’t help but watch him with narrowed, yet curious eyes.

A moment later, Thor set the goblet down in front of him, motioning toward it.

“There, not poisoned,” He declared.

Slowly, carefully, Loki picked up the goblet, staring at its contents, still not trusting Thor. The fact that he’d drank from it certainly didn’t make it more appealing either.

“Besides,” Thor continued lightly, as if he were having a normal conversation, though that smile of his had transformed into a sort of smirk, one Loki had already come to loathe even though he’d only seen it once or twice before. “I don’t think you can be described as just my _prisoner_.” Oh so casually, he tore another piece of the bread and stuffed it in his mouth. “You’re more my whore than my–”

Loki threw the water in Thor’s face.

Thor froze, eyes widening with disbelief, but Loki didn’t care. He certainly didn’t care about angering him, because what was the worst Thor could do? Exactly, nothing he wouldn’t do anyway. With a sigh, Thor reached behind him and grabbed a towel to dry his face.

“I should have seen that one coming,” He said dryly, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Much to Loki’s surprise, there wasn’t a trace of anger to be detected.

“Untie me,” He demanded, lifting his bound hands above the table, presenting them to Thor.

Thor stared at them for a moment, as if truly considering the option before he chuckled. “No, thank you,” He said. He tossed the towel behind him and continued eating as if nothing had happened. Loki hoped he choked on the bread he was munching. “You’re perfectly capable of eating with that rope around your wrists.”

Loki huffed in response, his hands dropping back to his lap.

“You do enjoy humiliating me, don’t you?”

Thor’s eyebrows rose, looking puzzled for a moment. “That has nothing to do with this,” He said.

To Loki’s surprise, he filled the goblet standing in front of him with water again, and Loki truly considered throwing it right back in his face, but he figured Thor wouldn’t let it slide a second time.

“You’re a bit of a wildcat and I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of you clawing my face off.”

Loki smiled sharply, fingers folding around the newly filled cup.

“You think I need free hands for that?”

Thor made a snorting sound. “You’re funny,” He said.

Glaring at the man sitting opposite of him, Loki considered his options. Throwing his water at him wasn’t an option, much to his disappointment. He was still bound and yes, he could try and scratch Thor’s eyes out, but he didn’t think he could do much damage. Thor was too strong and he was too helpless at the moment. Loki hated himself for it. Still, he wasn’t just going to give up.

“Now eat,” Thor said before Loki had a chance to reply anything, “We are heading out in a few hours. You need to get your strength back up.”

Loki tensed at the words, staring at Thor. “Heading where?” He asked.

Thor cocked his head to his left while taking a sip from his water. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked. He started filling a plate with two pieces of bread, a piece of cheese and a rather generous piece of meat. “Now eat,” He said – _ordered_ – as he put the plate in front of Loki.

Again, Loki simply stared at it, still not sure if he could actually accept something from Thor, but the fact remained that he was hungry and if the camp was indeed heading out – Thor had no reason to lie about that – he would indeed need energy for the journey. He simply wished that he knew where they were heading, that he knew Odin’s battle-plans, but Thor didn’t seem willing to reveal anything. He wasn’t as dumb as he looked like.

Thor stood from his seat, Loki’s suspicious gaze instantly on him, and started gathering the weapons that had been tucked away in another corner of the tent. Loki’s chest filled with disappointment at the sight of them. If only he’d seen those weapons sooner, if only he could get his hands on one of those swords, or perhaps a dagger! He had always been more skilled with smaller weapons. With a good aim, he could just throw a knife at Thor’s throat and cut his jugular vein with ease. He’d be dead in a matter of seconds. It was an idea Loki enjoyed entertaining.

“I advice you stay inside the tent since I have no doubt you’ll free yourself of those ropes at one point during the day,” Thor said while attaching the different weapons to his belt. He looked impressive as he stood there with all his armor and weapons, and Loki couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – not that he let it show. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Loki threw him a sarcastic smile. “Now who’s being funny?”

Thor hummed grimly, his blue eyes darkening and for the first time, they held no amusement. It was enough to make Loki shudder, to make him swallow heavily, his emerald green eyes glued to Thor as he walked around the table and leaned closer to him. Loki instantly pulled back to the point where he almost fell off of the chair, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. He _wanted_ to fall if that meant distancing himself from Thor who was close, too close, his warm breath on his face.

Loki hardly dared to breathe, but he forced himself to stare into those icy blue eyes, forced himself to face Thor head-on, fearless, bravely.

He doubted Thor bought his faked boldness.

“I’ll return soon,” Thor said with a voice that was filled with promise.

One large hand brushed through Loki’s raven hair before it slipped down the side of his face. Loki didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to breathe, to blink. Only when that hand slipped up his inner thigh and palmed him did he shove it away.

Thor grabbed his chin, his grip bruising him, forcing Loki to look up at him.

Loki hated himself for whimpering.

“That’s better,” Thor whispered, running his nose up Loki’s right cheek, “My little Jotun.”

“My name–” Loki said through gritted teeth because he couldn’t stay silent, couldn’t let Thor get away with this. He tried to push past his fear and panic, not wanting to give Thor the satisfaction of seeing terror, but there was no denying the frantic beating of his heart, the tremble to his limbs. He wondered if Thor could hear and feel it. “–is Loki.”

Thor shoved his head back.

“Noted,” He said disinterestedly.

“My lord?”

Loki’s eyes snapped toward the entrance of the tent and he didn’t know why the sight of Sif caused him to release a breath of relief. Perhaps it wasn’t that it was Sif, but that it was _someone_. It meant Thor wouldn’t have any attention for him for a moment, and the gods knew he could use that moment to collect himself, to catch his breath, to calm down again.

Only then did he realize there were actual tears in his eyes. He frantically blinked them away.

Sif, carrying a bundle of what looked to be clothes in her arms, walked further into the tent. Her brown eyes momentarily connected with Loki’s and she had a peculiar look on her face, one that ignited a whole new level of anxiety inside of Loki, making him fear that she knew who he was, or more importantly, who his father was, but Sif said nothing as she placed the bundle on the table in front of him.

“I hope these will fit,” She said.

Loki stared at the clothes, taking in their red and golden color – Asgard’s colors – and dreading the idea of having to wear this. No, he much preferred to keep the clothes he wore right now, and while they were stained with blood and sweat and dirt, they were _his_ clothes, green and golden, a tangible link to Jotunheim, to his father, to _home_.

“They will have to fit,” Thor said. When Loki dared to look up at him again, knowing that his tears were gone, he found amusement having returned to that previously icy blue gaze. “And if they don’t, he’ll just have to wear nothing. It’ll save me time.”

Loki stared at him, appalled.

“You and your vile mind,” Sif snapped, pulling a disgusted face at Thor.

“A joke, Sif,” Thor said in a flippant tone, rolling his eyes, “Are you not familiar with it?”

Sif shook her head, sighing, seriousness in her dark brown eyes, and Loki realized he would have liked her in another life. In this life, however, she was as much his enemy as Thor was, and Loki knew not to trust her even though she seemed the only person around not to take any of her Prince’s shit.

“Get out of here, Thor, perform your duties,” She said before her gaze fell on Loki again, “I will guard him.”

“Fine,” Thor replied. His hand brushed through Loki’s hair again, smoothing it back, and Loki couldn’t help but slap it away, hating Thor’s touch, hating that he stood so close, looming over him. Thor produced a pleased sound. “I’ll return before noon,” He said before pulling away.

Loki sincerely hoped not.

After Thor left, Loki felt a heavy weight fall from his shoulders. He felt like he didn’t have to pretend anymore, that he didn’t need to keep up a façade of courageousness, not for Sif, because truly, he couldn’t care less about what she thought of him.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing and on clearing his mind. He needed to get out of there, to escape the camp, escape _Thor_ , but with his wrists still bound and his ankle still tied to the bed-pole, there was little he could do.

He cursed himself and he cursed Thor.

The sound of something heavy being put down in front of him made him to open his eyes again, finding a large wooden bowl filled with what looked to be warm water standing in front of him. Loki frowned and glanced up at Sif who stood beside him and dropped a clean piece of cloth in the water.

“Go on,” She said, arms crossed before her chest, “Wash yourself.”

Loki threw her a questioning look. “And how am I supposed to do to that?” He asked sharply, his voice dripping with venom. He lifted his bound wrists and tugged at the rope to add strength his words.

Sighing, looking like she was just about done taking anyone’s shit, Sif stepped forward. She reached behind her back and revealed a dagger, twisting it between her slim fingers, causing Loki to freeze, but she merely cut away the rope around his wrists. When done, she threw Loki a fake smile and stepped back, motioning toward the bowl a second time.

“Don’t try anything,” She warned, pointing the dagger in his direction, her knuckled white with how tight she held it, “You might be … Thor’s, but don’t doubt I won’t cut you if you decide to be a fool.”

Loki hesitated for a moment, wondering what his chances were at getting his hands on that dagger. He could win a fight against her had the odds been even, but right now she had the upper hand. She had a dagger while he was still bound around his ankle.

Making a frustrated noise, Loki stood and removed his shirt, tossing it aside. The warm water on his skin felt good and he would let out a sigh of contentment if he wasn’t constantly reminded that he was a prisoner and that he had no say in anything whatsoever.

Reluctantly, he pulled on the red and golden shirt, finding it just a little bit too big, but he didn’t care. He was clean, he didn’t smell so bad anymore, and while the color of the shirt was hideous, he was dressed which would give Thor less thoughts – or so he hoped.

Pushing the bowl aside, Loki sat back down at the table and picked up a piece of bread that still lay on his plate. He still hadn’t eaten and with Thor gone, he figured he might as well give in to his hunger.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked after a short silence.

Sif’s eyebrows arched up, but she inclined her head.

“You look like an honorable woman, so how can you stand to serve a man like Thor?” Loki asked. His question was bordering on dangerous – after all, he couldn’t predict Sif’s loyalty to Thor – but Sif merely stared at him for a moment, as if truly contemplating on her answer.

“Thor is my future king,” She said.

“Thor is a dick,” Loki replied.

He angrily tore off another piece of bread, imagining he was tearing Thor’s head clean off of his shoulders. His rage was building again, and Loki let it. He couldn’t understand how anyone could serve that bastard, let alone be _loyal_ to him, and Sif appeared just that – loyal. He was rather disappointed, and angry. He refused to give up on his anger, kept fueling it, preferring that state of mind rather than experiencing nothing other than hopelessness.

Sif nodded, much to Loki’s surprise. “He has his flaws,” She said.

“Flaws?” He echoed incredulously, uncaring of how Sif’s eyes darkened at his reaction.

Yes, he was still a prisoner, _her_ prisoner at the moment, but that didn’t mean he would hold his tongue. He was done cowering in a corner, done being too afraid to open his mouth – or so he liked to believe. Perhaps he was experiencing only a brief moment of braveness.

“And Thor claiming a man as his spoil of war, planning to fuck him against his will, is that one of his flaws, too?”

“I never said I agree with what he is doing to you,” She snapped. She looked moments away from pressing her dagger against his throat.

Loki couldn’t care less. “But you don’t intend to stop him either,” He replied spitefully. “He is your _future king_ after all.”

Sif stared at him, only to deflate a little a few seconds later – much to Loki’s annoyance. She sighed softly, tension slipping away from her, and Loki cursed her for it. “I truly am sorry for what he is doing to you,” She said, her dark brown eyes gazing into Loki’s emerald green ones.

Loki slowly shook his head, glaring at her, unwilling to accept her words. “Your pity means nothing to me.”

There was a short moment of silence before Sif nodded and moved toward the entrance of the tent. Opening the flap, she tied it down, letting in bright sunlight and a soft breeze.

“I know,” She said quietly. She sat down on the ground, legs crossed beneath her, her hands playing with the dagger she was still holding onto.

-x-x-x-

Hours passed in silence.

Having cleaned himself and having eaten, Loki found that he was bored now. He’d explored the tent – ignoring Sif’s scrutinizing, distrustful eyes – hoping to find a forgotten weapon, but there was nothing. He had stumbled upon some books, but they all held the subject of battle-strategies and Loki didn’t feel like reading _that_.

In the end, he’d settled himself at the table again – like hell was he going to sit anywhere near the bed – with his left foot leaning on the bottom, his chin resting on his knee.

Fingers nimbly set to removing the rope again and for a second he’d expected Sif to stop him, but she didn’t move from her spot. She only stared at him, her fingers still twitching the dagger around, a silent warning. Loki ignored her, instead focusing on his ankle and much to his delight, he found the rope finally loosening. He couldn’t suppress a small smile from curving the edges of his lips upward.

Luck was not on his side, however.

It never was.

As the rope fell away to the ground, Loki releasing a pleased sigh, hands rubbing the red and chafed skin, footsteps approached. His head snapped upward, his emerald green eyes widening as he watched Sif stand swiftly, stepping aside. Loki darted away from the chair, knowing that he should make a run for it that he should try _something_ , but it was too late.

Thor entered, followed by two warriors Loki had never seen before.

“Tie his wrists together,” Thor ordered.

“No!” Loki protested.

He tried to distance himself from the two approaching warriors, tried to stay beyond their reach, but the tent was small and there was nowhere he could run to. Hands gripped him tightly, forcing his hands before his stomach no matter how hard he struggled and screamed and demandedto be released. It was ridiculous how easily he was forced to the ground, pinned down on his back, and bound again.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Thor waiting impatiently, arms crossed before his chest, fingers drumming against his upper arms. It was enough to have another fit of rage consume him, to have more screams leave him until his throat felt dry and his voice became hoarse.

As soon as the warriors stepped away, having done as they’d been ordered, Loki jumped up to his feet, fighting the rope around his wrists, trying to free himself again, but it was pointless. He only ended up rubbing the skin off of his wrist.

“You … _asshole_ ,” He cursed loudly, wild green eyes focusing on Thor.

“We are moving out,” Thor announced calmly, “Now are you going to behave as you ride with me, or must I tie you down some more?”

Loki’s lips parted with revulsion. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find no words leaving him. He was too angry, too enraged, and too scared. Thor’s presence always scared him.

“Ride with you?” He eventually managed to ask, unsure if he’d heard Thor right. “Like hell am I going to _ride_ with you!” He was relieved that he sounded mostly furious and bitter.

“Well, you aren’t getting your own horse,” Thor replied, unbothered by Loki’s demeanor. He turned to him, approaching him, and Loki couldn’t help but take a step back, lips pressed tightly together as not to make a sound. “You either ride with me or you can walk all the way with the men and trust me, you _don’t_ want to walk with the men.”

Loki gritted his teeth together, glaring daggers at Thor, wondering how someone could be that much of a bastard, while he continued to struggle against the rope, uncaring that a few drops of blood slipped down his hands. He needed to get free, needed to stop being so helpless all the time.

With an irritated sigh, Thor closed the distance between them, grabbing Loki’s hands, pulling him out of the tent.

“No, let go,” Loki protested, trying to pull his hands free, though failing miserably, “Let me go! You fucking–”

“Will you–” Thor snapped suddenly, turning toward him, his face only inches away from Loki’s, “–shut the fuck up? You ride with me, and if I hear one more complaint, I will just gag you, tie your hands to the reigns of the horse, strip you naked, and make you walklike that for everyone to see.”

Loki couldn’t help but recoil, swallowing heavily. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes and truly, he didn’t know whether they were there because of his fear, his panic or his all-consuming enmity. Oh, how he wanted to hurt Thor for humiliating him, for commanding him, for thinking him as nothing more than an object he could use and abuse. He wanted to slit his throat and generally just tear him apart, limb by limb, hearing his screams and pleas for mercy.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Thor added in a sour whisper, “Now move.”

Loki, trembling on his feet, could only follow.

-x-x-x-

He liked to believe that his silent treatment was unnerving Thor, but the truth was probably more accursed. He imagined Thor sitting behind him, steering the horse in the right direction, with a big, pleased grin on his face. For a while, the idea of scratching Thor’s eyes out or carving out his tongue entertained him, but after two hours of complete silence, Loki had enough of it. If his silence amused Thor, then he’d never be silent again. It was childish and pointless, but Loki had to do _something_ to make sure Thor was reminded of his frustration and anger.

“Who exactly is Sif?” He asked, deciding that if he were to annoy Thor with his talking, he might as well gain some valuable information in the process. “I mean, she is your warrior and she’s definitely loyal to you, but she’s not afraid to butt heads with you to a certain level either.”

Thor hummed. “Has anyone ever told you that you are quite frank?” He asked. One hand reached out to fold Loki’s hair behind his ear, as if he wanted a better view of his face, and Loki instantly pulled away from the touch. He’d bite Thor’s fingers off if he had to. “It’s as if you always forget who you are – my prisoner.”

“And you are being evasive,” Loki simply said, unwilling to let his uneasiness show, “Is Sif your queen-to-be?”

There came a snort, followed by a laugh that was both loud and obnoxious. Of course Thor could have such a laugh. The whole camp trailing after them probably heard him. “Sif is a dear friend,” He said, his voice vibrating through Loki’s body with how close they sat together, “And she is fierce and she is not to be messed with. I respect her, because she has earned it, but I will not marry her.”

“Good,” Loki said, nodding, “She deserves so much better than you.” And truly, he meant those words even though he hated her.

There was another short silence.

“Does your father know you’ve taken a Jotun as a spoil of war?”

Thor inhaled deeply – Loki could feel Thor’s chest rise behind him with how tightly it was pressed against his back – and appeared to be restraining himself from doing … _something_. He was annoyed, that much Loki could tell, and it made him smirk, satisfied that he was getting underneath Thor’s skin.

“What I do with you is none of my father’s business,” Thor settled on.

Loki hummed. He stared straight ahead, into the distance, not really focused on anything but the movement of the horse beneath him. Thor rode in front, leading his father’s army to an unknown destination, and Loki wished he knew. Perhaps if he asked again, he’d have better luck.

“Where are we heading to?” He asked, trying to recognize his surroundings, but at this point, he didn’t even know whether they were in Asgard or in Jotunheim’s lands.

“You enjoy the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Thor asked and Loki could practically _hear_ the smile on Thor’s face.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for.

“Well, I am bored,” He said irritably.

His fingers mindlessly played with the end of the rope tying his wrists together. He’d tried tugging at it, tried freeing himself, but after an hour – and after a bad case of cramps to his fingers – he’d given up. He would try again later, refusing to give up altogether, but for now he would simply bide his time.

“You can hardly be described as pleasant company.”

“You are _bored_ ,” Thor echoed slowly, the words drawled out, and Loki couldn’t say he liked the sound of it, “I have a cure against boredom.” One of Thor’s hands suddenly slipped up Loki’s thigh, fingertips brushing over his clothed skin ever so lightly before he groped Loki’s crotch, palming him through his trousers.

Loki shrieked, instinctively pulling away, only to find himself trapped within Thor’s broad arms, trapped on the horse. Cursing loudly, he shoved Thor’s hand away before throwing his arms back, hoping to hit Thor in the face, but his attempt was idle and, much to his frustration, ridiculous. Thor only had to lean his head sideways to avoid getting hit and as soon as another curse left Loki’s lips, he laughed.

“Do you live to humiliate me?” Loki spat.

Thor leaned closer again, lips brushing the shell of Loki’s ear. “Come on,” He murmured, purring almost, “We could give the men a show.”

“If your men want a _show_ ,” Loki hissed, “Then fuck one of them, the blonde perhaps. I’m sure he’d be just _honored_ to spread his legs for you.” Tugging at his restraints again, Loki released a frustrated sound when he found that it was useless. He couldn’t free himself.

Thor hummed in his ear. “Such anger,” He said.

“I’m going to kill you,” Loki vowed as he glanced over his shoulder, looking Thor in the eye because he had to know, he had to _see_ in his eyes that he meant every word he spoke, “One day, you are going to be careless and that will be the day I slit your throat.”

For one long moment, Thor stared at him, his gaze revealing nothing.

“And then you will return home?” He asked.

It was a question Loki hadn’t expected and he was momentarily speechless, truly not knowing what was expected of him, whether he was supposed to reply or not.

“You will kill me and you think you’ll be able to return to wherever you’re from?”

“Yes,” Loki said resolutely.

He turned to look ahead again, unable to stand the blank look in Thor’s face. It only confronted him with the fact that Thor was smarter than he looked like, that he was smart enough not to betray any emotions, not to let Loki see what unnerved and what did not. The idea of home, however, made his heart flutter within his chest. He longed for home, for the safety of his bedchambers, for the embrace of his father.

“Yes, I’ll return home.”

“But you _are_ home,” Thor said, grinning.

And then Loki saw it, recognized it.

They had crossed into Jotunheim’s lands.


	3. Chapter 3

On the fifth day of travelling through Jotunheim’s lands, Odin had ordered his men to halt when the sun hadn’t even begun to set over the horizon. The horses were tired, however, and the men hungry, so today’s travels had ended. No camp was set up, though, which told Loki that tomorrow they would move on again, and that tonight, they would all sleep under the star-filled sky.

The nights were cold and loud – both with the sounds of drunken men singing and the sounds of wild animals circling their temporary camp – but it brought one reassurance. Thor hadn’t touched him since that moment on the horse and while Loki was forced to sleep beside him, close to him, he now knew nothing would happen. After all, they had no privacy whatsoever and it turned out Thor did _not_ want to give his men a show. It meant he had been able to sleep well for four nights now and Loki didn’t expect tonight to be different – until he’d noticed where exactly they were.

Odin had decided to halt his camp of warriors near a small but abandoned Jotun-town, the wooden houses granting them a good line of defense. At first Loki had thought nothing of his surroundings, until he suddenly began to recognize the houses. It had taken him a while to remember the name of the little village that counted perhaps fifteen houses, but once he remembered, a strange sort of sadness settled over him. Byen, the town, would never be the same again. Perhaps it would never _be_ a town again. All the inhabitants were gone now, either having died from hardship or having sought refuge closer to the capital, and Loki couldn’t help but let the silence wash over him, leaving him with an eerie sensation that he wouldn’t be able to shake until they would leave again.

“Did you know it here?”

Loki turned to look over his shoulder to find Sif standing behind him. She offered him a small, but kind smile and came to stand beside him, looking at the town much like he had been doing, her brown eyes trying to see what he’d been seeing. Sif hadn’t left his side since the camp had moved out, not even when Thor returned from performing whatever duties he needed to perform for his king. She was always around, always keeping an eye on him.

“Yes,” He replied after a short silence. “A little old lady used to live right over there.” He pointed to the house at the edge of the little town with both his hands since his wrists were still tied together. “People thought her mad because she kept hundreds of bees, but she was actually very kind and she made the sweetest honey in the land.”

Sif said nothing. She only stared ahead, a hint of sadness to her eyes as she took in the forlornness of Byen, and it made Loki wonder if she had lost important people in this war. Thousands had already died after all, both on the battle-field and the people at home suffering from starvation as the war spoiled their lands. There was no denying that Jotunheim’s people suffered more than those of Asgard, but Loki never thought Asgardians cared. Seeing the look on Sif’s face made him wonder, though. It seemed not all Asgardians were ruthless and cruel.

“I wonder if she’s still alive,” Loki sighed after a while, turning his gaze back to the little house.

“Who cares about an old lady?” A new voice suddenly asked.

Loki whipped his head to his other side, finding that blond ass of a warrior standing but a few paces from him. Every muscle in his body tensed, but not with fear. He despised that warrior, the mere sight of him making his fingers itch to hurt him.

“Well, I certainly don’t expect you to care,” He snapped.

Beside him, Sif took a step closer toward him, and Loki didn’t miss the way her hand moved to rest so very casually on the pommel of her sword. What he didn’t know was whether she would pull the sword to chase the blond bastard away or to silence him. She was still a warrior of Asgard after all, and he was but a mere prisoner, not even _that_. He didn’t plan on keeping his mouth shut, however.

“You’re only interested in stabbing people with either your sword or your dick,” He noted coldly, glaring daggers at the asshole who was smirking at him.

The warrior placed a hand over his heart, his head cocked to his left, that grin of his never diminishing. “I feel like you know me,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “I feel so very touched.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed while his mind played a dozen different scenarios of how that man could meet his end. It all involved torture and loud, never-ending screams, but for as long as his hands remained tied together, there was little Loki could do. Still, the fantasies filling him were enough for now.

“Makes me want to stab you with my dick,” The man added dirtily, and Loki angrily, impulsively took a step forward, ready to attack him, to claw off his face or perhaps try and break his nose again like he’d done all those days ago, but Sif sent a him a look that made him halt. It was probably for the best.

She turned to look at the warrior. “You’re not to touch him, Fandral,” She warned as she moved to stand before Loki, positioning herself directly in between the two men. Loki hated her for it, hated her for defending him when he needed no defending. Or he _shouldn’t_ need any. If he had free hands and a sword, he would easily rip the man – _Fandral_ – apart. “You know he belongs to Thor.”

Fandral shrugged, not at all intimidated by Sif or by the way she drew her sword from the scabbard attached to her hip, her right hand folding tightly around the grip, twisting the sword and showing Fandral that she would use it if she had to. “Thor will eventually get bored him,” He said, those blue eyes of his shining brilliantly with amusement. “Then he will be ours to play with.”

Loki clenched his jaw together, refusing to make a sound, refusing to give into Fandral who was only trying to coax a reaction out of him. It would only amuse him and he was _not_ there for Fandral’s amusement. He wasn’t there for anyone’s amusement.

“Keep moving,” Sif hissed.

“Look at that,” Fandral laughed, lifting his arms as to show he was harmless. Loki willed Sif to cut off his hands or slit his throat. Their lives would be so much easier. “The Lady Sif to the rescue,” Fandral said. He winked at Loki, his grin growing, and then he walked away.

Loki was too angry to speak, too angry to move, every muscle in his body locked in place, his hands balled into fists. His gaze fell on Sif who was still watching Fandral’s retreating form, but her grip on her sword loosened and a moment later, she slipped it back into the scabbard, an air of relief surrounding her.

“I sincerely hope you’re not loyal to him,” Loki said eventually. He could tell Sif disliked the blond warrior almost as much as he hated him, but the same could be said about Thor and she was still loyal to him. It was a pity really.

“To Fandral?” Sif asked with a high voice as she spun around to look at Loki. “I’d rather swallow my sword first.”

It was enough to conjure a smile to Loki’s face, a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

-

That night Loki couldn’t sleep. Various fires were burning around them, giving them warmth and enough light to see their surroundings, but that wasn’t what was keeping him awake. The ghost town about half a mile down the hill was. The bee-keeping lady was. Last time he had been in Byen was over four years ago and he remembered a child had just been born. He couldn’t help but wonder if that child was still alive.

Loki hated this war, hated that it made his people suffer – though they weren’t really _his_ people since he would never be king, but he was their prince and he did care for them. He hated the Asgardians for being better. They had better weapons, better warriors, better provisions, better _everything_. Loki made himself no more illusions. In the end, Jotunheim would perish.

“You were very quiet today.”

Thor’s voice sounded close, but it no longer frightened Loki. He turned a little where he lay so he could look Thor in the eyes, finding their blue color darker in the firelight. “I thought you would enjoy my silence,” He said, returning to lie on his side, his back turned toward Thor.

“No,” Thor replied. For once, his voice held no amusement, and Loki couldn’t help but think that this was the closest they could get to having a normal conversation. “I much your prefer your incessant and annoying questions, I think.”

Loki wasn’t in the mood for a _normal conversation_.

“Sif told me you know this town.”

He would have rolled his eyes if Thor had been able to see it, but since he couldn’t, Loki settled on huffing softly, hoping that it was enough to express his annoyance. “I know lots of towns,” He said.

There was a short silence.

“Are you from around here?”

Gritting his teeth together for a moment, Loki forced himself not to get angry. There was no reason, really, since Thor wasn’t actually being an asshole for a change, but the questions were annoying him – perhaps this was Thor’s revenge, and in that case, he _was_ being an asshole – and Loki wanted to sleep. Or he wanted to _try_ and sleep. “Go to sleep, Thor,” He said once he knew he was calm enough to keep his voice under control.

There came another short silence.

“Goodnight, Loki.”

He didn’t say it back.

-x-x-x-

The camp had been set up again which meant that tonight Loki would be back in Thor’s tent, tied to the bed most likely. What else would happen then was something he didn’t want to think about, not now, not while he was having dinner around another large camp-fire, Thor sitting on his right side and Sif on his left. The food was a bit monotonous and of course he didn’t get as much as the warriors, but it was enough to keep him from being hungry.

Tonight’s dinner consisted out of soup – or what had to pass as soup – and a rather large piece of bread. Loki stared at the warm liquid in his wooden bowl, studying the contents, spotting pieces of carrots and potatoes, as well as what he thought was celery, but he couldn’t be sure. In any case, it didn’t taste so bad and it would help him keep up his strength.

Also, it helped him ignore Fandral’s stare.

The asshole sat on the other side of the camp-fire, a smug grin on his face while he ate his food, meticulously chewing every bite like he was contemplating the secrets of the universe. Loki wished he would choke on it, but of course that wouldn’t happen. The Gods weren’t with him after all. No, they liked to see him suffer. So there he sat with his gaze down just because he couldn’t stand that smug look on Fandral’s face.

Loki grew annoyed with every passing minute because apparently the secrets of the universe were written on his face. Fandral didn’t stop staring at him and Loki didn’t even want to image what that asshole was thinking of right now. His hands, still tied together around his wrists with a thick and long piece of rope, tightened around the soup-bowl, his knuckles turning white.

It was Thor’s voice that made him look up.

“Will you stop mentally undressing him?” Thor asked, his annoyed eyes locking with Fandral’s.

Fandral’s smug grin didn’t falter, his gaze returning to Loki – Loki who sent him a glare, the mere sight of him making his skin crawl. “I didn’t know staring was forbidden,” He said.

“It isn’t,” Thor said, a sharp edge to his voice, “But I still don’t like it.”

Loki returned his eyes to his nearly empty bowl. He shouldn’t let Fandral get to him like that, but the fact was that there wasn’t another person in this world he hated more at the moment. At first, that spot had been reserved for Thor, but now the golden medal had been passed on to Fandral. He’d applaud him if he didn’t want to strangle him so much with his bare hands.

“You’re too soft on him, Thor,” Fandral noted so very casually. Loki could hear amusement dripping from his tongue. “Have you even fucked him yet?”

Biting down on his tongue was the only thing preventing him from lashing out, from cursing Fandral and telling him to go to hell. The only reason why he didn’t do any of that was because he was still a prisoner and he had only his words to defend himself. At this point, he didn’t think that would further his cause.

“What I do with him is my business,” Thor replied.

Loki really had enough of all this and despite his earlier attempt to keep quiet, he just wasn’t the kind of man who was afraid to open his mouth. “Can we stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” He asked angrily, his gaze connecting with Thor’s who sent him another annoyed look, but Loki didn’t care.

“This is exactly what I mean,” Fandral said in a disapproving tone, looking at Thor. Beside him, Volstagg chuckled happily while munching away on a large piece of meat. “He doesn’t know his place, Thor, so do the world a favor, shut him up, and fuck him from behind like–”

Furiously, Loki jumped up and threw his bowl at Fandral’s head, actually managing to hit him, the lukewarm soup spilling all over his neck and shoulders. Fandral fell back with a shriek, and Loki would have laughed at the sight, at Fandral’s humiliation, if he hadn’t felt so damn _angry_. Fire coursed through his veins, spurring him on, but before he could throw himself at the asshole of a warrior, before he could beat him and kick him, two large hands gripped his upper arms and pulled him away from the camp-fire.

“Let me go!” Loki screamed. He lashed out at Thor, but Thor was stronger than him and he easily dragged Loki away. Everyone around him was staring at him, but Loki didn’t care. Let them! He would show them he wasn’t just a prize. “I will rip out your throat!” He screamed at Fandral who sat back up, his gaze murderous, but it was nothing compared to how Loki was feeling. “I will–”

“ENOUGH, LOKI!” Thor thundered, giving Loki’s arms an exceptionally violent and painful tug.

Loki continued to struggle, wanting to free himself of Thor’s iron grip. He wanted to attack Fandral, wanting to rip out his eyes for daring to look at him, wanting to rip out his tongue for daring to speak of him like that. But Thor continued to drag him away, his broad and muscled arms now wrapped around Loki’s middle, pinning down his arms.

They reached the tent and Thor all but tossed Loki inside.

Loki landed on the ground, the blow knocking the air from his lungs.

“Will you calm down?” Thor asked. He remained standing in the entrance of the tent, leaning against a tent-pole, his arms crossed before his chest. His blue eyes revealed only exasperation.

Slowly, Loki stood again, his chest heaving, his face pale with rage. “Do you call that man your friend?” He asked with a sharp voice. He tugged at the rope around his wrists again, just so he had something to do with his hands, just so he would remind Thor that he very much disagreed with this entire mess. “Oh, never mind,” He hissed before Thor had a chance to reply. He turned away from him and began pacing the ground.

Around him, various candles were burning, illuminating the tent, and for one brief moment, Loki considered pushing over one of the candles and setting everything on fire, but death by fire didn’t exactly sound appealing.

“You’re probably life-long best friends,” He continued angrily, spitting out the words, “Bonding over keeping people prisoner and having orgies together and thinking that you’re both so much better than the rest of us while making people jump in hoops for you!”

With a frustrated growl, he came to a halt, a sense of hopelessness and helplessness overwhelming him. He couldn’t get his hands free, couldn’t find a weapon, couldn’t get out of here, and now Thor was being a bastard by letting him rant and pace.

Thor’s eyebrows rose a little. “Are you done?” He asked.

Loki stared at him, teeth gritted together. He was still breathing heavily, but he was calming down a little. Only a little, though. “Yes,” He said, stifled.

Sighing, Thor walked into the tent, shaking his head as if disappointed. “You wasted your dinner,” He said as he moved toward a small cabinet by the bed. It made Loki wonder who was made to carry all this stuff, only to remember that he really didn’t care.

“I’m not hungry,” He replied curtly.

“Well, I am,” Thor said as he turned to face Loki again. He held a long piece of rope in his hand, which was enough to make Loki tense, but not enough to have him set off in another fit of rage. It was all useless anyway. Whether he screamed and fought or not, Thor would still tie him down. No, it was best to try a different approach. “So I’m going to return to my men and enjoy the rest of my evening,” He said, lifting the rope, “Will you fight me?”

Still very much pissed off, Loki dropped down on the edge of the bed, his emerald green eyes narrowing as he studied Thor’s form. He looked big and imposing since he still wore his armor and various weapons were attached to various placed of his body. Perhaps this was as good a chance he would ever get, though Loki doubted it. Even if he could somehow steal a sword, he couldn’t properly fight with it, not with his wrists tied together so tightly.

Thor approached, and Loki forced himself to keep still and silent. He observed the way Thor looped the rope around his ankle, watching intently as he tied it to the bed-pole. Thor was careful with the knot, tugging at it, checking to see if it would hold, and once he was content with the way Loki was tied down, he smiled happily and stepped back again.

“Have fun untying that,” He said, obviously satisfied with his work. Loki gave the rope an experimental tug, finding that he barely had any freedom, the rope being perhaps two feet long. He glanced up to shoot Thor a dismayed look. “I’ll return soon,” Thor grinned in response.

The moment Thor was gone Loki scrambled off of the bed and feverishly set to working the knot loose. He’d watched Thor tie it and he’d hope that would ease the job, but he was quickly proven wrong. Clawing at the rope, Loki found his nails began to bleed again, the rough rope opening old wounds as well as creating new ones, but he didn’t give up. He _couldn’t_ , because Thor would return and when he did, he would force himself on him, finally claiming him as his spoil of war. Loki didn’t particularly enjoy that idea. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get out of there _now_.

In the end, it took him a little over an hour to free his ankle. Producing a sigh of relief, Loki jumped up and hurried towards the entrance of the tent, carefully pushing the flap aside, half expecting Sif to be sitting there, guarding him, but he was alone. Without hesitating, he slipped outside.

Everything was dark, making it difficult to see where he was going, but Loki was determined to get out of the camp as quickly as possible. If he were to find a weapon along the way, then perhaps the Gods hadn’t abandoned him entirely. Sneaking through the tents, Loki hardly dared to make a sound. He hardly dared to breathe. All around him he could hear Asgardian warriors talking and laughing, but as he made his way south, he found the noise diminishing. He was getting near the edge of the camp, the tents growing sparser and smaller, but still he didn’t dare to run. Running would make too much noise. Running would attract attention.

He desperately searched for weapons, but he still found nothing. Loki cursed under his breath, frustrated that he still hadn’t found anything that could help him cut the rope around his wrists. If he had to, he would run to safety with his hands still tied together, but he preferred having them free. It would make running easier.

The blow to the back of his head came out of nowhere.

Loki fell forward and managed to break his fall a little with his hands. All the air was knocked straight out of his lungs, a sharp pain shooting through his left shoulder. He gasped and quickly rolled onto his back, finding Volstagg looming over him, the bastard grinning pompously. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, eyebrows rising.

Before Loki had the chance to reply or to jump back onto his feet or to do anything, Volstagg kicked out a foot, hitting him in the face. The force was enough to darken Loki’s vision for a few longs seconds and he could feel something warm and sticky run down his lips and chin – blood. Loki groaned loudly, his mind racing to catch up with what was happening, but the pain to the side of his face was numbing his thoughts.

“Kick him again, Volstagg,” Another voice said, “Payback for breaking my nose.”

Loki’s emerald green eyes widened with shock and panic. He threw his arms around his head, but he’d been too late. Volstagg foot hit his face a second time, kicking the right side of his jaw, and Loki shouted out in agony, only for a hand to slam over his lips, muffling his sounds. He hardly recognized Fandral squatting down beside him, his vision still blurry and out of focus.

It was a weak attempt, but Loki threw his bound hands at Fandral who was pinning him down, a knee pressing down on his chest. Loki couldn’t breathe, fear and panic settling in the pit of his stomach, making him want to throw up. He knocked his fists against Fandral’s face, but he barely had any strength left and Fandral easy swatted his hands away.

He felt like crying, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Screams still left him, though he wasn’t sure what he hoped to achieve with them. He didn’t think anyone would come to his aid, except for Sif perhaps, but she was currently on the other side of the camp. Thor wasn’t around either. Loki whimpered and feverishly shook his head, hoping for Fandral’s hand to disappear, but it didn’t work.

Parting his lips, Loki bit down on the soft flesh of the palm of Fandral’s hand.

Fandral cried out. “You whore!” He stood and kicked Loki’s ribs.

Loki rolled onto his side, curling in on himself, hoping to protect himself. His entire body seemed to be on fire and while he opened his mouth to scream again, he found he couldn’t produce a single sound. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to get a grip on himself, to get control over the pain drowning out his thoughts, but it was impossible.

A pair of strong hands – Volstagg’s, he recognized – hoisted him up and Loki felt how he was thrown over Volstagg’s shoulder, brought to God knew where. It was enough to have another jolt of panic rake through his body. Loki began to struggle again, kicking out his legs and trashing his arms about, but he couldn’t land any proper blows. Volstagg only chuckled at his attempts.

The first ounce of rage joined his fear and panic, and Loki held onto it as if he held onto life itself. It was better to be angry than to be afraid. “Put me down,” He demanded with a loud and sharp voice, “Put me. _Down_.” It was useless so he started screaming again while he prayed with all of his heart that someone would hear him and help him. He didn’t know what Fandral and Volstagg had planned for him, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be beaten half to death. Or to death.

Volstagg violently threw him down again, on his back, and kicked his ribs. Loki couldn’t breathe, no matter how desperately he tried to suck air into his lungs, and he couldn’t see either, his vision having gone dark. A part of him hoped he would just pass out, hoped Fandral and Volstagg would lose interest in him then, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Fandral sat down on his hips, pushing his bound wrists against the ground above his head.

“Look at you now,” He hissed, “You don’t have such a big mouth anymore, do you?” He ripped away Loki’s shirt.

“ _No_ ,” Loki shrieked. He began to struggle again, tried throwing Fandral off of him. For one brief moment he thought he’d succeeded when Fandral jumped back, only for Volstagg to grab him by the shoulders and flip him onto his stomach. “NO!” He screamed. He tried scratching at Volstagg arms, but it hardly caused any harm. Volstagg merely seized his hands and pressed them down in the dirt above his head.

“Hold him still, Volstagg,” Fandral said. Loki glanced over his shoulders to find Fandral unbuttoning his trousers. The sight was enough to have him fall still for a moment, to have all sense leave him at the realization of what those assholes had planned for him. And then he began to tug at his hands again and started twisting his body.

“No, let me go,” He spat. He tried to crawl into a sitting position, tried to free his hands from Volstagg’s grip, only to find Fandral’s hands pressing his hips down. “No, don’t touch me. Let. Me. _GO!_ ” The moment Fandral started tugging at his trousers, Loki felt tears stream down his face. He’d known this would happen, but it shouldn’t be happening like … this. It shouldn’t be _him_.

He continued to scream, though the sounds were once again muffled by a hand over his lips, Volstagg’s hand this time. Loki tried biting him, tried trashing and kicking to be free of their grip. The moment he felt Fandral’s hands force his legs apart, he started to sob, knowing what would follow next, but he was too weak to do anything about it. Loki hated himself.

Fandral entered him in one rough movement.

Loki couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t _think_. He could only feel Fandral tearing him apart, his thrusts hard and overwhelmingly painful. Loki didn’t know when he’d started screaming again, nor did he know how long it took for Fandral to cum, but when he did, Loki pressed his face into the ground beneath him, thinking he was going to throw up as he felt Fandral’s release slip from his ass, along with some blood.

Only when Fandral pulled back did he force himself to breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out. It was over now, but his insides still felt like they were on fire.

Volstagg released his hands, but Loki didn’t have the energy left to move, to curl into a ball and wish for oblivion. Tears were still streaming down his face and he was faintly aware of what kind of mess he looked like, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“My turn.”

It was enough to have Loki jumping up, only to be knocked back down by Fandral’s foot kicking against the back of his left knee. Fandral pinned him down again, and no matter how hard Loki fought and screamed he couldn’t get free. He tried knocking his fists against Fandral’s body, but it was pointless. Forced onto his stomach again, Loki screamed for help, for anyone to come and stop this from happening, but he was starting to understand he was alone. No one cared about his agony.

Volstagg pushed into him, and Loki screamed even louder, horror and panic and desperation filling him.

The pain was almost too much to bear and Loki could feel his vision darkening again. He hoped with all of his heart and soul that he would pass out now. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to wake up again. Volstagg’s thrusts were as hard and rough as Fandral’s had been, and Loki could only take them. He feebly tugged at his hands again, but Fandral’s grip was too tight.

He could hear Fandral laugh above him, but he felt too shocked to feel angry, to curse him.

“Get off of him!” A new voice thundered.

Footsteps raced toward him and a moment later, Volstagg was knocked right off of him. Fandral’s grip on his hands disappeared, too, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to get up and run away. He didn’t even know if he would be allowed to run away. Instead, he curled up into himself, eyes squeezed shut, and blocked out the sounds of shouts and fists punching flesh.

Something warm and soft was thrown over his body and for the first time Loki dared to look up, his emerald green eyes locking with soft brown ones. Sif. She kneeled down beside him and placed a careful hand to his shoulder, pulling the blanket a little higher up his body.

“Come on,” She said softly.

Slowly, carefully, every movement sending spasms of pain through his body, Loki stood, Sif helping him by wrapping an arm around his waist and supporting him as they walked away. Only then did Loki dare to glance over his shoulder.

He found Thor beating the shit out of Fandral and on any other day that would have made him smile, but today, Loki just wanted to get out of there.


	4. Chapter 4

A few warriors stared as he passed them with Sif’s arm around his waist, guiding him through the camp, but Loki paid them no attention. He just wished he didn’t have to return to Thor’s tent, wished he could return to the capitol of Jotunheim instead and feel safe within the walls of his father’s palace, but the fact remained that he was still a prisoner and that Thor’s tent was the safest place to be in the camp for him, which both angered and saddened him.

Sif pushed the flap of the tent aside and let Loki enter first, keeping a hand to his shoulder and steering him toward the chair beside the bed. Every inch of his skin felt sticky and dirty, and his insides felt like they were on fire. Sitting hurt too, and Loki winced as a sharp pain shot through his lower abdomen.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Sif grabbed a cloth that lay on the other side of the tent, dipped it into a large bowl of water, and returned to him a moment later, carefully wiping away the blood that probably covered his entire face. She moved a hand to the back of his neck, holding his head in place as she rubbed away some blood on his left cheek. It was enough to have Loki groan, a stinging sensation darting through his skin, all the way through his nose.

“Let me take a look at your face,” She said softly while she tossed the now reddened cloth aside.

Loki instinctively pulled his head away. He didn’t enjoy Sif’s touch, he didn’t enjoy anyone’s touch, and he certainly didn’t want her groping his nose which felt like it was seconds away from falling off. Still, it didn’t feel broken, just very swollen.

“My face is the least of my concerns,” He bit out. He was well aware of how harsh he sounded while Sif was only trying to help him, but he didn’t care. Right now, he just wanted to soak in his anger and hatred for the Asgardians.

Sif had the nerve to look sorrowful. “I know,” She said.

Loki couldn’t help but think that she really did know, but before he could comment, the flap to the tent was pushed aside again and Thor walked in, looking like a whirlwind of rage and violence. His muscled stood tense and a thick vein was throbbing near his left temple. His usually light blue eyes stood dark now, his pupils blown wide by the adrenaline so obviously racing through his body.

“Bring him warm water,” Thor ordered, his eyes connecting with Sif’s for a moment, “And fresh clothes.” He picked up the bloodied cloth Sif had tossed aside just a second ago and walked toward the large bowl of cold water. He rinsed the cloth a little before starting to clean the blood off of his hands and arms.

Loki wondered whose blood it was exactly, but he didn’t dare ask. The truth was that the sight of Thor was menacing, and Loki could feel tears prick the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t predict how pissed off Thor was with him, what he would do to him after what had happened, but he doubted he would enjoy it.

With a small heart, he watched Sif leave the tent, only to quickly focus back on Thor, not trusting him.

Thor walked toward him and squatted down before him, his hand reaching for one of the daggers attached to his belt. Loki’s heart began to thump wildly inside of his chest, but without a word, Thor cut away the rope around his wrist. Loki quickly pulled his hands closer to his body, rubbing at the sore skin.

When Thor slipped the dagger back into his belt and glanced up, Loki couldn’t control himself anymore. He lashed out, hitting Thor in the face, the force of the slap twisting Thor’s head sideways.

“You and your people are barbaric,” He spat.

Thor might be pissed off with him, but Loki decided it was nothing compared to the anger and hopelessness he experienced. He refused to be a victim, refused to let what had happened knock all the fight out of him. He’d been unable to fight Fandral and Volstagg, and he would rather die before giving up the fight at all.

No matter how much he clung to his anger and hatred, however, tears still rolled down his cheeks because he felt so goddamn _broken_.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said after a short silence. Blue eyes, brighter again, locked with emerald green ones. “I am sorry for what they’ve done to you, Loki.”

Those words were enough to have Loki lash out again, but Thor grabbed his wrist midair, preventing him from hitting him a second time. Loki growled and pulled his hand free, Thor instantly letting go of him, which was enough to make yet another wave of fuming madness crash into him.

“Sorry?” He asked with a high-pitched voice. “Why would you be sorry? It was either them or you!”

Thor stood and stepped back as if actually slapped in the face. He looked horrified and sick, and Loki wanted to hurt him for it.

“I wouldn’t have been so … rough,” He said.

While Loki could feel adrenaline pump through his veins, he lacked the strength to actually jump up and attack Thor, his body failing him. Seated, Loki looked up at Thor, glaring at him with an ice-cold look in his incensed green eyes.

“That changes absolutely _nothing_ ,” He hissed, “I didn’t want this, didn’t want any of this!”

“I told you to stay inside the tent,” Thor snapped.

Loki’s eyes widened with disbelief.

“Oh, so now _I_ am to blame?” He asked. He had to swallow away a sob and Loki hated himself for showing such weakness, for crying in front of Thor after what had happened. He felt sick and disgusted with everyone and himself, and he’d give all the gold he had back in the capitol for his freedom. Of course, life wasn’t that easy. “Your _friends_ forced themselves on me, but it’s _my fault_ because I didn’t stay in the _fucking tent_?”

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“Thor,” A new, commanding voice sounded.

Loki’s gaze snapped toward the entrance of the tent, finding Odin Allfather himself standing there, looking even bigger than Thor did, which was ridiculous since he was a few inches shorter than his son. Still, Odin was just as broad as his son and had a more intimidating appearance what with one eye covered by a golden eye-patch, a scar running just underneath it. Everyone knew Odin lost that eye to Laufey at the beginning of the war, and Loki couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath at the sight of him.

He quickly threw his gaze down, head bowed forward, his shoulder-long raven hair falling before his features. The last person on this earth he wanted to be faced with was the Allfather, and then there came a nagging fear that he might be recognized as Laufey’s son – it was a good thing Loki has always taken after his mother. Loki could feel his breath falter within his chest, his hands clutching the edge of the chair tightly with how frightened he felt.

“Father,” Thor said. Between a few strands of hair, Loki could see him walk around the bed, closer to his father. “I am sorry that you’ve been disturbed at this late hour.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” Odin asked with a tight and strained voice. “You are my son, the Crowned Prince of Asgard, but not even I can protect you from the mess you’ve made.”

“I don’t need protection,” Thor replied quickly.

Carefully, Loki glanced up a little, wanting to see what was happening, wanting to see the looks on their faces, wanting to know what they were thinking. Odin’s one good eye stood fierce and calculated, his gaze trained on his son. There was no doubt he felt agitated, his hands balled to fists beside his body. Thor was unmistakably tense, too, his lips thin and white with how hard he pressed them together.

“The Council will want to speak to you,” Odin said.

Loki no longer dared looking at them. He cast his eyes back to the ground, using the moment to get a grip on himself, to force away his tears and get control over his breathing again. Slowly, he could feel himself calm down, though that meant he could feel the pain better, could feel it spasm through the lower half of his body. It nearly made him groan. Nearly. He bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from making any sound.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Thor said. He moved back to the bowl of water and finished cleaning his hands and arms, the blood staining his skin already having turned a dark brown color. “I was only defending my property.”

Loki’s head snapped up, eyes flashing with rage.

Odin sighed heavily, deflating a little. “Your _property_ –” One blue eye pierced Loki’s emerald green ones, and Loki found himself staring at Odin, his breath coming out in quick, short bursts again. “–has caused quite a stir.” He turned toward Thor, teeth gritted together. “If you cannot control him, then get rid of him.”

Thor nodded once. “I hear you, father.”

After throwing his son one last meaningful look, Odin Allfather left the tent and the moment he did … Loki didn’t care that he was a prisoner, didn’t care that his life lay in Thor’s hands. The moment Odin left, he jumped up, ignoring the agonizing pain wracking through his body, and grabbed the nearest item – it happened to be a water jug in between his chair and the bed – and flung it at Thor’s head, missing him by one inch.

“I AM NOT YOUR PROPERTY!” He screamed, frantically searching for another item to throw. He settled on two wooden goblets. One flew over Thor’s shoulder and the other hit him square in the chest – not that Thor seemed injured in the least. “I AM NOT A TOOL YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS CAN USE AND THEN–”

“–Loki–”

“–GET RID OF ONCE YOU HAVE GROWN TIRED OF ME!” He grabbed the chair and tossed it across the tent. A particularly painful pang shot through his lower stomach, but Loki didn’t let it hold him back. He didn’t care that he might be bleeding again, that he could feel every fiber of his body begging him to keep still, he just kept on raging. “I AM NOT YOUR SLAVE, NOT YOUR SEX-TOY WHO YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS CAN JUST–”

“–Loki, will you–”

“–FUCK WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE IT BECAUSE YOU THINK YOURSELF SO MUCH BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE AND–”

“ _Loki!_ ” Thor closed the distance between them in a blink of the eye, his hands grabbing Loki’s upper arms and shaking him, forcing him to stop screaming and raging. “Will you just …” He kept a firm grip on Loki and stared into his wide, frantic, green eyes, though he no longer shook him. “… stop?”

His lungs didn’t seem to be getting enough oxygen even though he was breathing hard and fast. Loki faintly realized he was hyperventilating, that he’d overexerted himself, that the edges of his vision were darkening, and that he might pass out soon, yet all he could think about was the fact that Thor’s hands gripped him tightly and it was enough to make him whimper, his eyes fluttering shut because new tears were welling up.

Thor let go of him and took a step back.

Warily, Loki opened his eyes again, simply because he needed to see Thor, needed to know what he’d do, whether he’d get angry again and hurt him – hurt him like Volstagg and Fandral had. He held his breath, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d break down in sobs, and he refused to. He’d been broken enough today.

“I killed a man because of you,” Thor said suddenly, quietly. He took another step back, a crushing sadness settling over the otherwise so strong and intimidating warrior.

It was almost enough to have Loki feel sorry for him. Almost. He would never feel sorry for that man.

“Which one?” He asked before moving to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. His legs were trembling, as were his hands, and Loki clasped them tightly in his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Thor’s gaze anymore. He felt tired and sick and he just wanted to be left alone really.

“Volstagg,” Thor replied. He picked up the chair Loki has tossed around and set it back beside the bed. “When I knocked him off of you, he hit his head against a rock. He was unconscious, but that didn’t stop me. I attacked him and I crushed his skull with a hammer.”

Loki swallowed heavily. He’d seen Thor go wild against Fandral, beating the shit out of him, but he couldn’t remember seeing Volstagg, though it mattered little. The bastard was dead, yet Fandral still lived. The thought was enough to have a claw of fear move around Loki’s chest, making it damn hard to breathe again. Fandral would be out for blood, _his_ blood.

“You should have killed them both.”

-x-x-x-

Somehow he fell asleep despite the everlasting tension to his muscles and the tremble to his limbs after what had happened, only for his dreams to be filled with unwanted stares, with Fandral and Volstagg closing in on him, chasing him, catching him … He woke with a jolt and a scream he managed to choke away a little, his eyes frantically searching around the tent, expecting Fandral to be there, a knife or other weapon in his hand, but he only found Thor sitting at the table, his bright blue eyes boring into his, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. Loki cursed him for looking even the slightest bit worried.

Slowly, simply because every inch of his body felt sore, Loki pushed himself in a sitting position and planted both his feet on the ground, the coldness helping him chase away the fatigue that still claimed him.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked. He stood and started filling a plate with food.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Loki replied sharply. His hands clutched the bed-sheets beneath him tightly, waiting for the sharper pain to ebb away. He tried focusing on his breathing, knowing his chest shouldn’t be heaving so much, nor should there be a thin layer of sweat on his skin.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched Thor step closer to him, but Loki refused to look up at him, refused to meet his gaze. He didn’t even know why. Perhaps he was afraid of what Thor would see in his eyes – his weakness, his exhaustion, his pain.

Thor was an ass, however, and demanded Loki’s attention by sitting down on the bed beside him, Loki instantly tensing, which in turn made him wince when a sharp pain shot through his lower abdomen.

“You need to eat and drink,” Thor said, putting the plate with bread and fresh food in his lap.

Loki considered throwing it to the other side of the tent, but he didn’t think Thor would appreciate it and he didn’t want to find out what Thor would do should he. Instead he just stared at the food, knowing that anything he got in his stomach would come out later on anyway. He did accept the goblet with cool water, though, sipping from it carefully. It made him feel a little better.

“I’ve called for a healer,” Thor said after a short moment, “Will you let her take a look at you?”

Loki glanced at Thor, only now realizing that Thor didn’t actually sit that close. He appreciated the space he was given, but it didn’t make his hatred for Thor lessen.

“Depends,” He answered, relieved that he sounded … _normal_ considering what had happened, “Will you be here?”

Thor stared at him for a moment, as if wondering what answer would be the right one, before he shook his head, his blond hair falling around his face.

“No,” He said, “My father needs me today, but Sif will be right outside the tent.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki sighed as he put aside the plate, deciding that he wouldn’t even be able to swallow down the food without feeling the urge to throw up, “My own personal guard.”

“She’s here to protect you,” Thor said as he stood and moved back to the table. He took a seat there again. Breathing instantly became easier for Loki. “Fandral is still out there,” He continued before he took a small bite from his own piece of bread, “And he’s out for vengeance.” Loki hated him for talking so casually about it. “He blames you for Volstagg’s death.”

A humorless chuckle slipped past Loki’s lips.

“Of course,” He said, eyes trained on the contents of his wooden goblet, “He probably blames me for the rape, too, like you do.”

“I don’t blame you,” Came Thor’s instant reply.

Loki’s emerald green eyes shot up, locking with Thor’s. He scoffed.

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” He said heatedly. The mere memory of Thor’s words made his hands clasp more tightly around the goblet and Loki considered throwing it at Thor’s head until Thor rose from his seat again as if wanting to remind him that he was taller and broader and stronger.

Or perhaps not.

Thor merely grabbed the belt from which his weapons hung and attached it to his waist.

“I know,” He said regretfully, “And perhaps I should have killed them both, but what is done is done.”

“Yes, don’t mind me,” Loki said spitefully. He put his goblet aside, too, not feeling thirsty anymore either. “I’m just your spoil of war, less than human and–”

“Loki,” Thor interrupted him, “I really am sor–”

A slender hand pushed the flap aside, Sif entering a second later. Her dark brown gaze switched between Thor and Loki, only to settle on Thor a moment later.

“My lord,” She said respectfully, “The healer is here.”

“Yes, send her in,” Thor said. He finished putting on the last piece of his armor and then turned to Loki, his gaze soft and open, and Loki didn’t know what to expect, but he had a feeling that whatever would come from Thor’s mouth next, he would hate it. “You can trust her,” He said.

So maybe Loki was wrong. He stared at Thor, refusing to be the one to break eye-contact – because he wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t afraid to look him in the eye – until Thor finally turned away from him. Without another word, the Prince of Asgard left, Sif leaving with him.

Another woman entered the tent, Loki eying her with nothing but suspicion because he just couldn’t take Thor’s word on her trustworthiness, yet one look at her and Loki could tell she was … nice for the lack of a better word. She had long brown hair that flowed down her back and soft features, chocolate brown eyes timidly meeting his. She smiled kindly, her hands folded together before her stomach.

“Hi,” She said with a delicate voice, “I am Jane.”

-x-x-x-

He couldn’t sleep.

Whenever he dared to close his eyes, he felt Fandral’s hands on his body again, felt Volstagg’s foul breath on his face, and when he did manage to drift off into a shallow sleep, he dreamt of being pinned down on the ground, clothes being ripped away from his body. Each time Loki awoke with a jolt, breathing heavily and momentarily confused as to where he was.

He couldn’t sleep, and he felt like he was going insane.

-x-x-x-

Picking at the food on his plate, Loki wondered when he would finally be able to get something decent into his stomach again. He hadn’t properly slept in a week and he hadn’t been properly eating either. He saw the concerned looks Thor would throw his way every other moment, but Loki ignored him, thinking he had no right to be worried about him, not when he was the one having taken him prisoner, not when he was the one forcing him to stay in this hell.

“The camp hasn’t moved in over a week,” He said when the silence that hung between them grew heavy and awkward for which he blamed Thor, too. He’d taken up the habit of blaming Thor for everything. “What’s going on?”

Thor’s bright blue eyes pierced Loki’s emerald green ones, and Loki wondered what Thor was seeing exactly. A broken man? Loki hadn’t seen himself in a mirror since he’d been taken captive, but he had a feeling he looked like crap, various cuts and bruises covering his face, his nose still twice its usual size and his features contorting with each movement he made.

“Peace-negotiations,” Thor replied after another short silence.

Loki’s eyes widened slightly, unsure if he’d heard Thor correctly.

“Peace-negotiations?” He echoed with disbelief in his voice. He sat up straighter, pushing his plate aside. Now he definitely wasn’t hungry anymore, which earned him a disapproving look from Thor, but he didn’t care.

“The war has lasted long enough, don’t you think?” Thor put a small piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “Both sides have lost countless of men and women on the battlefield, and then we’re not even talking about the people at home, starving as the war is spoiling the lands.” He shook his head, sighing heavily, and leaned back in his seat. “Do you remember the time back when the war began?”

Loki was momentarily taken aback by the question. He folded his hands in his lap, eyes trained on his intertwined fingers, and thought of the question.

“I remember my older brother explaining it to me,” He said softly, memories rushing back, memories he didn’t know he still possessed, “I must have been eight or nine years old. I remember not caring, thinking that it wouldn’t affect me at all.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Now look at me,” He added.

Thor gazed at him, and Loki found himself unable to meet those blue eyes. Why, he didn’t know anymore.

“What kind of peace-negotiations?” He asked, not wanting another unnerving silence to fall between them.

“My king and your king sit around a table and talk,” Thor answered.

“And you are present too,” Loki said, a statement rather than a question. It finally explained where Thor had gone off to each morning and why he returned so late every evening, tired and generally looking peeved about something.

Loki could imagine these negotiations were long and boring, and Thor was more the kind of men that liked spending his time on a make-shift training-field.

Thor inclined his head, a ghost of a smile curving the edges of his lips upward. “I sit at the table and watch as two old men compare the sizes of their dicks,” He said bluntly, though amusement rang in his voice, “It’s been a week now, but there’s hardly been any progress. Neither is willing to cave. Too much bad blood between them, I suppose.”

Loki nodded. The war had been going on for years already, with periods of one bloody battle after the other, followed by quieter times, but never had the war ended, never had anyone considered themselves so lucky as to think they were safe. Loki didn’t even know how it had all started in the first place.

“Where do these negotiations happen?” He asked, his emerald green eyes wide with hope. He imagined himself seeing his father again, imagined embracing him and returning home with him, but he wasn’t foolish enough to actually believe that could happen. Still, he liked to entertain the fantasy if only for a moment.

“A few miles to the east on ground declared as neutral territory,” Thor said. He pushed his now empty plate aside and filled a goblet with ale. “But it’s all pointless,” He sighed, shrugging, “The war is far from over.”

Loki couldn’t help but agree.


	5. Chapter 5

Volstagg’s dark brown eyes pierced his emerald green ones. He looked throttled and incensed as he stalked closer to Loki – Loki who felt his heart hammer within his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering every inch of his skin. His throat turned dry. He took a step back, only to bump straight into Fandral who curled his fingers around his upper arms and spun him around. Fandral’s blue eyes lightened up with amusement, and Loki couldn’t help but whimper.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice call his name.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell that voice to come closer and help him, but he found no sound escaped his lips. He tried to pull free from Fandral’s grip, but it was useless.

“Let go of me,” He demanded, only to find that his voice sounded barely above a whisper. It made Fandral laugh, his eyes falling shut and his head thrown back while the loud, intimating laugh sent shivers down his back.

Loki used the opportunity to kick out a foot, hitting Fandral’s shin. It was enough to have Fandral’s grip loosen, and Loki quickly pulled away, only to fall right into Volstagg’s fat arms.

The voice called his name again. It sounded close, yet so far away.

The fat warrior threw him onto the ground, all the air instantly knocked from his lungs. Volstagg pinned him down, pressing him into the dirt, and he forced a knee in between Loki’s legs. It was enough to have a rush of panic overtake him, and Loki heard himself scream. He wasn’t in control of himself anymore and he didn’t know what he was doing. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, both out of fear and humiliation, but he didn’t care. He just kept screaming and fighting and–

“ _Loki!_ ”

He woke, eyes snapping open and every muscle in his body tensing to the point where it hurt. Then again, lately, not a minute passed where he wasn’t in pain. Without thinking, he jolted upward and away from the hand on his shoulder. Breathing was hard and thinking even harder. Emerald green eyes turned to his left and foundThor sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands up as if wanting to show him that he meant him no harm. His bright blue eyes stood wide and were full of concern.

Loki faintly realized that it had been Thor’s voice that he’d heard in his dream, trying to wake him, to pull him out of the nightmare, but he found little comfort in that.

“It was just a dream,” Thor stated the obvious.

Not trusting his voice, Loki stayed quiet. He would have snapped something at Thor, would have told him that he shouldn’t make such stupid remarks, but he didn’t think he could make himself sound strong enough. Tears still stung the corners of his eyes and Loki was faintly aware that they were threatening to break free. He didn’t want Thor to see him cry, not again, not like this, because those tears were proof of his weakness, of his incapability to process what had happened to him.

Curling in on himself, Loki wrapped his arms around his knees and pressed his face into the mattress below him while desperately trying to regain control of his breathing. He told himself not to cry over and over and over, but it was useless. For a while, only his heavy breathing and muffled cries filled the air in the tent, and he felt grateful that Thor had the decency to keep his mouth shut.

After a few long minutes, his muscles relaxed again and his tears ran dry. Eventually, he dared to sit up, angrily wiping away the wetness on his cheeks while refusing to look at Thor, afraid of what he’d find in those blue eyes, afraid that Thor would turn into an asshole and make a joke at his expense.

“It’s been nearly two weeks,” Thor said softly. Loki forbade himself from groaning, because here it came, Thor’s snide remark telling him to get over it already, or something along those lines. “You haven’t slept properly since and I know you’ve not been eating decently either.”

The words were enough to make a frown crease his brow. Loki glanced up, thinking that he was imagining the concern in Thor's deep voice, but it lay so very clearly in his blue eyes, too. It filled him with anger. He preferred a malicious comment. It would have made him feel less pathetic.

“Why do you care?” He bit out.

“You think I am heartless,” Thor replied, having the nerve to sound hurt.

Loki simply stared at the Crowned Prince of Asgard, hoping that that would be an answer to his statement. Of course he thought Thor heartless. He had taken him prisoner, had all his fellow warriors executed, had humiliated him and toyed with him, kept him bound and powerless, and now, worst of all, he was trying to convince him that he actually felt sorry for him, that he felt concerned about him.

“Fair enough,” Thor sighed after a brief silence. He stood and walked toward the table at the other side of the tent where he picked up a goblet before returning to sit on the edge of the bed. He held out his hand, offering it to Loki. “Jane gave me this,” He explained as he wiggled the goblet a little, “It’s a mixture of herbs and it should help you sleep.”

While eying the goblet suspiciously, Loki pulled back a little as if fearing that should he refuse, Thor would just grab him, hold him down and force the drink down his throat. Perhaps it would be safer if he just accepted the drink then, so that was exactly what he did. He took hold of the goblet and stared at its contents, the smell of it sweet and inviting which surprised him to say the least. He’d expected something foul and nauseating.

“I don’t want to sleep,” He admitted, still staring at the goblet. He didn’t even know why he was saying what he was saying. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a secret either. “I just get nightmares.”

“You’re exhausted, Loki,” Thor said before growing silent for a moment. The heaviness of the silence was enough to make Loki glance up, wondering what lay on Thor’s mind, though he didn’t think he’d like it. There was very little he liked about Thor after all. “Nothing will happen to you,” Thor finally added softly, “I will be right here.”

His gaze bore into Thor’s. “That doesn’t really comfort me.”

Thor inclined his head. “If you don’t trust me–”

“–I _don’t_ trust you–”

“–then trust Jane.”

It wasn’t something Loki had expected to hear. He’d met Jane a few times and while she was kind and sweet and caring, she remained Asgardian, and Loki had made a habit out of not trusting Asgardians.

“She’d throw a fit if I hurt you,” Thor continued with a ghost of a smile curving the edges of his lips upward, “Or trust Sif who might actually try and kill me if I were to lay one finger on you.”

That Loki could imagine. Perhaps killing her future king was a stretch too far, but he could imagine her kicking his ass for it, but in truth, Loki didn’t know whether to feel grateful that Sif had taken it upon herself to defend and protect him or to feel humiliated that he needed her for exactly that.

However, the fact remained that he _was_ indeed exhausted, and if this drink could help him relax a little, then he would gladly accept it. Slowly, carefully, as if still expecting something to happen – what, he didn't know – he brought the goblet to his lips. He inhaled sharply before downing the entire drink.

It didn’t taste so bad.

After handing the goblet back to Thor, he shuffled closer to the headboard of the bed and leaned against it.

“When should it start working?” He asked.

Thor set the now empty goblet down next to the bed. “I don’t know,” He replied, “Jane didn’t say.”

Nothing happened at first, and then it all happened at once.

His muscles relaxed and his vision became hazy. Loki tried to blink away the daze, tried to get his surroundings to sharpen again, but it was pointless. He could feel himself calm down, could feel the constant ache of his body dull, and his eyes slipped shut. Moving to lie down, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. A part of him was still afraid that Thor might take advantage of the situation, yet a small voice in the back of his head told him Thor would never. Not now, not anymore.

It was enough for Loki to surrender to the darkness and for the first time in nearly two weeks, he slept without any nightmares haunting him.

-x-x-x-

When he woke, he was alone.

Slowly, sleep still clouding his mind and his limbs feeling heavy, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

A blanket fell away from his body. He didn’t remember falling asleep with it, but he didn’t give it any further thought. After allowing himself a moment to wake properly – he was alone anyway, there was no rush – he rose from the bed and walked toward the table where a plate with bread and fruit – grapes, a piece of apple and even two strawberries – stood waiting for him. He took a small bite of everything as if expecting the food to be poisoned, and only when he knew it wasn’t did he eat everything, because for the first time in days, he felt hungry.

He felt better.

Outside of the tent, there were the usual noises Loki had grown used to by now. He heard men’s voices, heard them laugh and talk. He heard footsteps and the sharp sound of swords clashing against each other as warriors trained for the inevitable next battle. There might be peace-negotiations happening, but like Thor – and this was perhaps the only thing they would ever agree on – Loki didn’t believe they would succeed. Like Thor had said before, there was simply too much bad blood between King Laufey and King Odin.

Pushing the flap of the tent aside, he found Sif sitting at her usual spot – just outside of the tent, on a thick log that served as a chair, her ankles crossed and her back completely straight since she always seemed to wear her armor. She glanced up at the movement beside her, her dark brown eyes instantly taking in the approaching form of Loki. She didn’t smile at him, though, but Loki didn’t mind. Sif never seemed to smile anyway.

Without hesitating, he took a seat beside her and gazed at the objects in her hands. She held a dagger and a small whetstone which she used to sharpen the blade of the dagger with. It produced a sharp sound which faintly hurt Loki’s ears, but he made no comment of it. He simply sat next to her, enjoying the idea of sitting with a person he knew wouldn’t try to hurt him. It was a nice change.

“What time of the day is it?” He asked after a long, but comfortable silence. He wasn’t sure why he was so suddenly interested in the time, but going by the position of the sun, it had to be pretty late. It seemed Jane’s herb-mixture had knocked him out for longer than he’d assumed.

“A little past noon,” Sif answered, following Loki’s line of sight and gazing at the half-concealed sun. It didn’t hold her attention for very long. She focused on the dagger again. “You slept well.”

“Yes, remind me to thank Jane for that.”

Sif didn’t reply, but Loki hadn’t expected her to. For a few minutes he took in his surroundings, watching the men that passed by but who no longer spared him a glance – much to his relief – while wondering where Fandral was at right now. For a moment he expected to find those familiar icy blue eyes, but the blond warrior was nowhere to be found – again, much to his relief.

Eventually, his emerald green eyes settled on Sif who was inspecting the dagger, testing its sharpness. She looked so casual as she handled weapons, which was a rather odd sight. She was the first female warrior Loki had ever encountered and he found himself admiring her more than all the male warriors he’d met – and he’d met quite a few. She was strong and fierce, but she held onto values such as kindness and honor, values that Thor and most of his men seemed to have forgotten about.

It made him curious, though, how a woman like Sif had come to join Odin Allfather’s army. Even more, it made him wonder how she had come so close to Thor, what she had done to earn the right to speak so bluntly to him as she often did – like she didn’t care that he was her prince.

“Why are you here?” He asked before he could stop himself. Sif’s gaze landed on him, but he wasn’t afraid of it. He wasn’t afraid of _her_. “Why have you taken it upon yourself to protect me?”

For one brief moment, her features darkened, her lips pressing together until they formed two thin lines. Her gaze held something akin to anger and frustration, but Loki couldn’t be certain. Sif was not an easy person to read, though he suspected there was a reason for that. She turned back to the dagger and slipped it into a small sheath which was painted in a dark green color.

“You’re right,” Loki said after a short silence, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, feeling as if he’d crossed a line and insulted her, “It’s none of my business.”

A heavy sigh came from somewhere deep within Sif, and her shoulder slumped forward a little. She glanced up, her dark brown eyes easily connecting with Loki’s emerald green ones. “Before I was a warrior, I was a maid.”

It wasn’t something Loki had expected to hear. His eyebrows rose, but he forbade himself from asking questions. Sif was the only person in this camp that he even remotely liked and he didn’t want to offend her. Nor did he want to anger her. He liked having her around after all, and no matter how much he hated to admit it, knowing that she sat outside of the tent made him feel a little safer.

“I know,” Sif said, chuckling softly, “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” She placed the whetstone aside before her fingers started playing with the dagger, twisting it around. It seemed she just wanted to keep her hands busy, and Loki couldn’t blame her. “From a young age, I worked for a lord who lived near the border of Asgard. He was kind and generous and I liked him. He respected his workers.”

Loki wasn’t sure where this story was going, but he stayed silent. He let Sif tell her tale.

“One day, however, the castle came under siege,” She continued, her gaze focused on the dagger in her hand. Loki wished he could see the look on her face, wished he could see what she was thinking and feeling, because somehow he found himself … caring. “Jotun warriors managed to break in and they destroyed everything in their path. The lord was murdered, as were his children. The men of the field were taken captive and brought away. They would either be forced to join King Laufey’s army or they would be executed. As for the maidens of the castle …”

Loki’s heart was thumping wildly within his chest. This was a story – no, not a story, a _reality_ – about his father’s warriors, about Jotunheim’s army. He had never heard this before, had never thought Jotun-warriors to be capable of such appalling crimes, but it seemed now that he was wrong.

There was no denying the horror and disgust in his emerald green eyes, but still he stayed quiet and he was relieved that Sif wasn’t looking at him right now.

“I don’t know how many days or weeks they occupied the castle,” Sif said, sighing softly, grievously, “I only know that I had never known so much pain and humiliation. I prayed to the Gods for it all to end, for death to come and take me, but the Gods weren’t so kind.” A small smile, barely noticeable, filled Sif’s face. “Eventually Thor and other warriors showed up and they took the castle back from the Jotuns. He freed me and all the others that survived.”

Loki thought he was going to be sick, that he was actually going to throw up. The Asgardians were supposed to be the beasts, not the Jotun, not _his_ people.

“I asked Thor to take me with him and, much to my own surprise, he agreed,” Sif concluded as she glanced up again, staring straight into Loki’s eyes, “He trained me himself and I showed everyone that women can fight just as hard as men can.” There was a pause and then, “Not all Jotuns are as honorable as you believe them to be, Loki, just like not all Asgardians are such pigs as you imagine them to be.”

He didn’t know what to reply to that, didn’t know what to do with that. He wanted to despise Sif for all that she had said. He wanted to curse her for knowing what he was going through and still not having tried to help him escape. She hadn’t even been kind enough to give him death, just like she had prayed for. He couldn’t look at her in that moment and he found himself craving solitude. Somehow, he just needed a moment to process everything he’d just discovered about his own people.

But Sif demanded his attention again by placing a hand to his hands which lay folded in his lap.

Loki glanced up to find her offering him the dagger.

“Do promise me you will not use it on Thor,” She said while Loki stared at the dagger now lying in his hand. He felt its weight and knew that it was real – a real weapon that he could use to defend himself. “He can be an asshole, but he will be the king of Asgard one day. We kinda need him.” Her gaze slipped around their surroundings suddenly. “Fandral is out for blood,” She added, “It would be unfair to leave you defenseless.”

Not knowing what else he could say, Loki settled on, “Thank you.”

-x-x-x-

Thor didn’t return until late that night. He brought food and fresh water, but Loki wasn’t hungry. He just sat at the table, watching Thor eat, Sif’s words still echoing through his mind. He hadn’t seen her or spoken to her since she had told him her story, but she hadn’t left his thoughts once. And now he couldn’t help but stare at Thor – Thor who either didn’t notice or was diplomatically ignoring him. Either way, Loki felt annoyed.

“How much did Sif hate you when she learned you took me as your spoil of war?” He asked after a long silence. He faintly realized that he was rushing out the words, but he knew that if he didn’t get the question out soon, he’d never ask, and he really wanted an answer.

Thor stopped mid-swallow, his bright blue eyes suddenly falling heavily on Loki’s form, but Loki continued to stare at him, his eyebrows lifting a little, demanding an answer. He watched as Thor slowly placed his fork down and took a sip from his water.

“I take it she has told you about her past,” He said, strategically avoiding Loki’s question.

“Yes,” Loki replied, nodding, “You saved her. Very admirable.” He leaned back into his chair, arms crossed before his chest. If he wasn’t mistaken, Thor squirmed under his intense gaze. “You freed her from … Jotun-warriors, you know what she has gone through, yet you didn’t hesitate to put me through the same. Why? Because I am Jotun? You thought I deserved such a fate?”

Letting out a frustrated noise, Thor brushed a hand through his long golden hair. “I don’t think anyone deserves such a fate,” He said eventually – which earned him a cynical snort. Loki also felt insulted by the answer. He doubted it was true. Thor shifted in his seat, his gaze never truly connecting with Loki’s. “Perhaps it was a spur of the moment thing.”

“You thought it could be fun,” Loki said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Thor said nothing.

“Do you still think it fun?” When Thor again stayed quiet, Loki leaned forward, elbows resting on the smooth table surface. He picked up his own goblet with cool water and drank from it, if only to keep his hands busy. “I’m glad your eyes have opened, Thor,” He noted after a moment, “My only wish is that it had happened sooner.”

“Show me the dagger.”

Loki’s eyes widened with shock and fear, his grip on the goblet tightening.

“You think Sif would give you a weapon and not tell me about it?” Thor asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

Loki suddenly become highly aware of the weapon tucked away near the small of his back. He remembered Sif asking him not to use it on her prince, but Loki would fight to keep the weapon if Thor wanted to take it away from him. Yet somehow, for some unknown reason, he reached behind him and grabbed hold of it, pulling it out and showing it to Thor as he’d asked. He doubted Thor would snatch it from him. They were sitting too far apart anyway.

“Let me see it.”

Emerald green eyes narrowed. “I _do_ want it back,” He warned as he extended his hand, allowing Thor to take it from him – which he did with a faint glint to his bright blue eyes. Loki watched as Thor removed the sheath and placed it down on the table before inspecting the weapon, feeling its weight, checking its sharpness, just like Sif had done earlier.

“It’s a fine blade,” He noted after a while, “How would you use it?”

Truly, Loki didn’t understand what was happening, but a part of him enjoyed it. He didn’t even know why.

“I’m a master at throwing them,” He said as he was handed the weapon back again. His fingers curled around the hilt, and he instantly felt better. He felt more in control, more powerful. He didn’t feel so frightened anymore. Without a word, he rose from his seat, spun around, away from Thor, and then threw the weapon at a tent-pole. The blade struck the wood, producing a dull thud as it became lodged into the wood by several inches.

Grinning victoriously, he walked over to retrieve the dagger before turning back to Thor to witness the impressed look on his face. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed before his chest while one hand mindlessly rubbed his three-days-old beard.

“Impressive,” He said while standing. He walked toward his collection of weapons that he carried with him all day and took hold of his own dagger – or one of them anyway. He walked toward Loki and offered it to him. “But I think this would suit you better. The grip is longer, yet thinner. It’s heavier, doesn’t have any markings either, so it should allow you to throw it more precisely.”

Loki accepted the dagger and stared at it. Unlike the one he’d received from Sif, this one was painted in red and golden colors which didn’t surprise him all that much. It felt slightly heavier in his hand, but it did seem easier to handle. Without asking permission – like he needed permission from Thor for anything – he aimed it at another tent-pole and threw it, finding that he did indeed manage to make a more precise hit. The blade was edged deep into the wood.

It was enough to make Loki smile.

-x-x-x-

“But where are we going?” Loki asked for what must have been the fifth time. He followed Thor through the tents, just a step behind, because for some reason, Thor felt excited and that meant he walked fast. Under normal circumstances, he’d have no problem keeping up, but if he moved too quickly, he still found that his lower half ached. At times, a sharp pain still shot through his abdomen.

Jane had explained to him that the healing process would take time, that it had only been three weeks since Volstagg and Fandral had … Loki refused to think about it. He wanted to be healed already. He wanted to be rid of the constant reminder.

“Come on,” Thor spurred him on, glancing over his shoulder and sending him an enthusiastic smile.

Loki wasn’t sure if he liked what was happening. He had never seen Thor so … excited before, not like this anyway. Then again, he didn’t know Thor, and it seemed like Loki had to remind himself again and again that he was still a prisoner here, that while he hadn’t been hurt by anyone other than those two assholes and while he was treated fairly well, he was still Thor’s spoil of war. It was enough to fill him with a sense of dread.

It was hard to give into that feeling when Thor behaved like an overly-excited puppy, though.

They reached the edge of the camp, a large field stretching out before them. Loki couldn’t help but freeze a little. There were warriors everywhere, all battling each other, the sharp sound of swords clashing echoing through the air. Nervously, he glanced toward Thor who stood beside him – Thor who was still smiling at him, looking pleased.

“What’s going on, Thor?” Loki demanded to know, his gaze returning to the training warriors. He couldn’t count them all, but there were at least fifty men on the field, perhaps another fifty men off of the field. Those who weren’t training were sharpening their swords, fixing their bows, or simply encouraging others who were fighting.

“I figured it’s nice and all that you can throw a dagger,” Thor began. He placed a hand to Loki’s shoulder and guided him toward the far left part of the field. “But that’s not going to warn off anyone. They need to see for themselves that you can slit their throats if you want.”

“O-kay,” Loki said. He was faintly aware that Thor was walking so very close to him, that he was actually touching him, but he didn’t mind. His mind was more focused on his surroundings anyway.

“So let’s show them what you got,” Thor smiled.

They came to a halt, and Loki’s gaze instantly fell on a target about five yards away. It was round, made out of hay apparently, and had a bull’s eye painted in the middle with circles drawn around it. It’d be easy for him to hit the center, but Loki still found himself hesitant. He turned to look at Thor once again, eyes narrowing with confusion.

“Why bother with all of this?” He asked, truly unable to make sense out of this. “Why don’t you just let me go, because I _will_ use the dagger on you if you even blink at me wrong.”

Thor merely answered his question with a sorrowful glance.

Loki didn’t press the issue. He knew he wouldn’t be released. What kind of message would that send to the warriors? Thor was their future king. Releasing a prisoner would be considered weak instead of compassionate. That dreadful sensation settled in the pit of his stomach again, and Loki sighed heavily.

“Alright,” He said, refusing to dwell on such negative thoughts for too long. He took hold of the dagger Thor had given him over a week ago and gazed at the target. He narrowed his eyes slightly, focused on the wind, taking it into account, and then threw the dagger. It hit the bull’s eye spot on, and Loki had to bite down on his lower lip to prevent himself from grinning like a fool.

Next to him, Thor _was_ grinning like a fool. “I bet you can’t hit it twice,” He said.

Loki took hold of Sif’s dagger – he considered himself lucky he’d been able to keep both – and twisted it between his fingers. It felt lighter, and with the wind blowing rather hard, a lighter dagger was more difficult to throw with accuracy. Still, Loki was pretty confident in his skills. He lifted the dagger, exhaled slowly to steady himself, and then flung it at the target. The blade cut into the bull’s eye – a little too much to the left for Loki to like it – but he’d hit the bull’s eye nonetheless.

“You were saying?” He asked triumphantly. Without waiting for a reply, he turned away from Thor and walked toward the target to retrieve the two daggers. He was aware that a few warriors were staring, but he didn’t care about them. He was actually having fun – he hadn’t thought it possible – until he turned back to Thor to find him standing with a bow and arrow in his hands.

“Ever shot with one of these?” Thor asked once Loki could hear him.

Loki stared at the weapon. He had practiced with them when he’d been younger, but he’d always found that throwing daggers allowed him more swiftness. He’d never had much interest in the bow. It had always been more Helblindi’s weapon of choice. Wordlessly, he accepted the bow from Thor, inspecting it, finding that while he didn’t like shooting it, he did find it a magnificent weapon, this one in particular. The curved limbs, made out of wood joined together by a riser, were engraved with various symbols, runes to be more precise.

Thor handed him an arrow which Loki put in place before lifting the bow and aiming it at the target. His fingers slipped down the silk bowstring, stretching it back as far as he could. Every muscle in his arm strained. He closed one eye, steadied himself, and then released the arrow. It hit the target, but it missed the bull’s eyes with a few inches.

Loki made a soft disappointed noise as he lowered the bow.

“That was good,” Thor said as he took a step toward him and handed him a second arrow.

Putting it in place, Loki lifted the bow a second time, his fingers curling more tightly around the grip.

“No, don’t do that,” Thor said.

Loki tensed when he felt a hand to his hip, Thor suddenly stepping behind him. He could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck and Loki couldn’t help but glance sideways, only to find that Thor’s gaze was entirely focused on the bow. Thor’s other hand moved to lie on top of Loki’s which was gripping the bow all the more tightly now.

“You gotta loosen your grip,” Thor said, his voice sounding so incredibly close to Loki’s ear, “And use your pointer finger to decide the trajectory.” The hand on Loki’s hip moved to rest on Loki’s hand, pulling back the bowstring. “Stretch out your thumb,” Thor said, “Until you can put it behind your neck.”

Loki did as Thor advised while _not_ thinking about how close he stood.

“Alright, great,” Thor continued. Loki could actually _hear_ the smile in his voice. “Now tuck your chin in a bit, yes, like that.” Thor’s hand returned to Loki’s hip. “The tip of your nose needs to touch the string.” Thor’s other hand fell away from Loki’s hand around the grip of the bow. “Close one eye, take a deep breath, aim and fire.”

Loki did exactly that and watched as the arrow hit the middle of the bull’s eye. He nearly made a victorious little jump, only to remember where he was, that dozens of warriors were probably watching him and Thor, so instead, he spun around. Thor still stood directly behind him, and for one brief moment Loki was clueless about what he was supposed to do. He didn’t feel threatened by him, didn’t feel intimidated, didn’t even mind all that much that they stood so close, only to remember that he should be hating the guy, cursing him, perhaps even planning his death – wouldn’t that fix everything? Wouldn’t that end the war?

Loki took a step back, clearing his throat in the hopes that it would clear away his confusion. He kept telling himself again and again that he hated him, that he despised him and blamed him for everything that had happened to him, but in this moment, in this _brief moment_ , Loki found that he just wanted to enjoy himself a little. After everything that had happened, wasn’t he allowed to just … have a bit of fun?

“That was great,” Thor said, his blue eyes shining brilliantly with something akin to pride.

Loki assumed he read that wrong. He didn’t know Thor after all, refused to _get to know_ him, but Loki still figured that it would be best not to dwell on it for too long.

“Give me another arrow,” He said, extending his hand while unable to hide his excitement.

Thor did so.

Loki remembered everything Thor told him, taught him, and managed to hit the bull’s eye a second time, and no matter how hard he bit down on his lower lip, Loki couldn’t prevent a jubilant grin from spreading across his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay!

The past few days had been, with the lack of a better word, boring. With the peace-negotiations still taking up most of Thor’s time, Loki found himself in the constant company of Sif. Nothing happened, nothing to keep his mind busy, to keep him from feeling like he was slowly turning insane.

He’d always been an active person. When he hadn’t been fighting for his father, surviving battles, he had been attending councils, had spent afternoons reading and studying, had held audience for the people in the capital who were faced with a problem, any problem, and now he spent his days waiting. For what, he did not know. Just waiting.

Glancing aside, he found Sif sitting beside him, carving into a long piece of wood. She had been working on it for hours already, but Loki still didn’t understand what she was making – if she was making anything in the first place. Perhaps she was simply as bored as he was. Somehow she looked different to him, though. Loki no longer saw a guard that had been tasked with keeping him inside the tent, or just outside of it since he liked sitting on the log with her. Her company was better than no company at all. No, he saw her as his protector not because Thor had asked her to, but because she wanted to be. It made Loki trust her a little bit more.

His gaze was pulled towards movement a few tents down, emerald green eyes instantly locking with cold blue ones. Fandral stood leaning against a thick wooden pole, his arms crossed before his chest and an ever so faint smile, smug and obnoxious and vindictive, curving his lips upward. Loki could feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but he refused to let his apprehension and fear – because memories of Fandral touching him, holding him down and hurting him flooded his mind – show.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving Fandral’s form, he rose to his feet. Sif glanced up as he moved, but he didn’t look at her. He was unable to. He could only stare at Fandral while reminding himself over and over to keep breathing. Breathing was the key. His hands balled into fists, though, and every muscle in his body tensed.

“Everyone is talking about you,” Fandral said as he pushed himself away from the tent-pole and turned his body toward Loki. He didn’t step closer, though, for which Loki couldn’t help but feel relieved. “About you and your knife-throwing-skills.”

Loki reached behind him and grabbed hold of the dagger he kept hidden near the small of his back. He removed the sheath and twisted the weapon between his fingers, drawing Fandral’s attention to it. A warning – no, a promise. He would hurt that asshole for what he’d done and he didn’t care how much trouble he could get for it. Thor and Sif had given him a dagger for exactly this reason. It helped Loki feel a little more confident.

Until Fandral chuckled exaggeratedly.

Loki’s grip on the dagger tightened, his knuckles turning white.

“You are a very peculiar spoil of war,” Fandral sighed incredulously, shaking his head. His gaze fell on Sif for a moment – Sif who remained seated, though there was no doubt she was wishing Fandral a slow and painful death. Loki could tell by the way she was glaring at the man, by the way she was holding her dagger like she was seconds away from jumping up and slitting his throat. Loki sincerely hoped she wouldn’t. _He_ wanted to slit his throat. “I honestly don’t know how you managed to wrap Thor around your pretty, little finger.”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Loki asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m just wondering how on earth you did it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, a frown creasing his brow. Truly, he hadn’t a clue what Fandral was talking about, but he doubted he _wanted_ to know. He stayed silent, hoping that perhaps Fandral would get bored and just leave. On the other hand, this was _Fandral_ and he’d clearly come here with a purpose – to piss him off.

“How did you get Thor to give you a knife?” Fandral asked, his head cocking to his left, those blue eyes of his easily holding Loki’s emerald green ones. “How did you get him to not fuck you?” He paused, and Loki could feel his anger grow, could feel it drown away his fear. He let it. “Or is it because he wouldn’t be the first anyway? Is it because I had you first before he got a chance?”

It surprised Loki that he didn’t throw his dagger at Fandral’s face right then and there. Instead he rolled his eyes – still refusing to let Fandral read his true state of mind, refusing to let him see his anger and fear and panic – and twisted the dagger between his fingers again, the blade catching the sunlight, revealing how sharp it was. Fandral wanted him to lose himself, wanted to see him break down, and Loki refused to give him that satisfaction.

“You do so love to hear the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“You know what I love hearing more?” Fandral asked in return. He took a step closer to Loki, taunting him. “Your screams of agony, or were they screams of pleasure? Honestly, I couldn’t tell.”

Loki felt sick to his stomach, thinking he would actually have to throw up. Hearing Fandral speak of the rape like that … It was enough to have tears sting the corners of his eyes, and Loki hated himself. He hated that he couldn’t keep up the façade, that he couldn’t hold onto his anger without being overwhelmed by waves and waves of fear and shock and panic. He stood face to face with Fandral and all that he could do was break down.

Fandral grinned. “You were so very tight,” He continued, “I could tell it was a virgin hole–”

Loki threw the dagger, watching as it cut Fandral’s upper arm, but Fandral didn’t even flinch. His icy blue eyes merely turned down to inspect the damage for a moment before he glanced back up, his eyebrows raised. Loki felt his heart thump wildly within his chest, his hands having turned cold and clammy, and no matter how many times he told himself not to be scared, he could still feel a claw move around him, crushing him with memories of Fandral and Volstagg forcing themselves on him.

“Is that the best you got?” Fandral asked.

Reaching behind him, Loki grabbed hold of his second dagger and, much to his relief, he found Fandral’s eyes narrowing suspiciously, his shoulders tensing, his lips turning into two thin lines. “If you ever come near me again,” Loki started, his voice low and seething, “If you ever speak to me again, I will plant this knife in your eye.”

Fandral took him in, weighing his words. For one brief moment, his gaze fell to Sif, but she stayed quiet. She knew this was Loki’s battle. Loki didn’t like that he was taking so long, however, so he twisted the dagger between his fingers before raising his arm, ready to throw the weapon, fully prepared to drive it into his eye-socket. He didn’t care what would happen if he ended up killing one of Odin’s warriors. He didn’t care he might be executed, though somehow he dared to think that Thor would protect him.

A long moment passed, the silence between them hardly bearable, but eventually Fandral spun around and walked away with a nasty scowl on his face.

Loki released a breath he hadn’t known to be holding and only when he looked down did he see the tremble to his limbs. Sif rose to her feet and moved to pick up the dagger he had thrown at Fandral and without a word, she handed it back to him. Loki could only offer her a thankful smile, not trust his voice anymore.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to scream in frustration or cry in despair because once again he’d been blatantly reminded of his position. For one brief moment he had thought himself something other than a prisoner, perhaps even something more, but now he’d once again been put in his place. He was Thor’s spoil of war, nothing more. _He_ was nothing, no matter how many daggers he was given.

-x-x-x-

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, sheets pulled high up to his chin, his knees up to his chest. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Fandral, saw that grin on his face, a constant reminder that he’d gotten away with what he’d done. Now more than ever, Loki wished Thor had killed them both. Or perhaps he shouldn’t dwell on it for too long. Perhaps he should try and forget about Fandral, forget about what had happened to him.

If only it were that simple.

Forcing himself to close his eyes once again, Loki focused on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He was tired – make that exhausted – and he knew well enough that nothing would happen to him here, not in Thor’s tent, not with Thor lying right next to him, but Loki still couldn’t stop himself from feeling Fandral’s hands snake down his body. His eyes snapped open again while he slipped a hand underneath his pillow, fingers curling around the hilt of a dagger. It made him feel slightly better to know that he had a weapon nearby.

Minutes passed. Hours passed. Each time Loki closed his eyes and felt sleep finally pull him under, he jerked awake again, too afraid of sleep, too afraid of the nightmares he was bound to have.

A hand came to rest to his shoulder.

Loki twisted around, his hand shooting upward, fingers clenching the dagger so tightly to the point where his hand hurt. Thor froze, his blue eyes widening, his head titling back as Loki pressed the knife against his throat. Loki couldn’t breathe and none of his thoughts made sense. He was faintly aware that he was hurting Thor – he could tell by the drop of blood sliding down his neck – but he was locked in place, unable to move.

“Sorry,” Thor said as he lifted his hands, showing Loki that they were empty or perhaps that they wouldn’t touch him anymore. Loki still didn’t move, however. He still wasn’t breathing either, his emerald green eyes wide as they took in Thor, but he was unable to process the startled and baffled look in those blue eyes. So very slowly, Thor moved a hand to Loki’s arm and gently pushed it down.

Loki didn’t stop him. He just stared at him.

“Breathe,” He said in a tone that was both commanding and concerned.

And Loki did. He inhaled sharply and pulled away, every muscle in his body sore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. After throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood, simply because he needed to do _something_. Behind him, he could hear Thor move as well, but he didn’t turn to look at him. His hand still clutched the dagger after all, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Thor should he make a wrong move. He wouldn’t even be able to stop himself.

“I can send for Jane,” Thor said softly after a long moment of silence.

Finally, now that he knew he wouldn’t have another break-down, Loki turned around, his gaze instantly connecting with Thor’s who stood at the other side of the bed. Loki didn’t know why he stood there. Perhaps he purposefully wanted to give him space – or the idea of having space – or maybe he generally hadn’t a clue what he was supposed to do.

“No,” He said. The idea of needing Jane’s herbal mixture made him feel weak, and he didn’t want to feel weak anymore. He didn’t want Thor to think him weak either. His legs were trembling, however, his hands shaking violently, which was enough to shatter that illusion. He sank back down on the edge of the bed and brushed a hand through his hair, his eyes closing.

“Loki–”

“Don’t.” Loki shook his head and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t know what he was supposed to. He just knew he couldn’t take any more of Thor’s pity. “Sometimes I wish you would just fuck me,” He heard himself say, his voice on the verge of breaking. He didn’t even know if Thor could hear him. “I wish you were as cruel as Fandral, that you would hurt me and humiliate me. It would be so easy to hate you then.”

There came a long silence.

Loki used it to force away his tears and calm down.

“What can I do?” Thor asked eventually. He sounded sorrowful, another thing Loki couldn’t stand.

“Nothing,” He replied as he moved to lie down again, “There is nothing you can do.” He curled up into himself, arms wrapping around his knees. Around him, there was nothing but silence, and Loki knew Thor had yet to move from where he was standing.

Seconds passed before the mattress dipped beneath him, Thor lying down again, too, and only then did Loki close his eyes. His breathing slowed down and his heart was no longer beating in his throat. Slowly, his muscles were relaxing. Loki hated Thor, but he hated it even more that he found comfort in his presence.

-x-x-x-

Somehow, he had fallen asleep and much to his surprise, he hadn’t suffered through a nightmare. No, he woke early in the morning, feeling well-rested, lying comfortably underneath a thick blanket. He was still curled up in himself, his hands clutching the blanket, holding it – _no_. Loki’s emerald green eyes stared at his hands, his hands that were holding onto a red shirt.

Thor’s shirt.

He quickly let go of the fabric and glanced up, finding that he lay close to Thor, so close that he could actually feel warmth radiating from his body. Thor lay with his back to him, but Loki could tell he was still sleeping by the sound of his steady breathing. He found himself gazing at the back of Thor’s head, wondering what on earth he was doing. He should move away, should lay so close to the edge of the bed that he threatened to fall out, but instead he found that he enjoyed lying there, that he enjoyed the warmth he felt right now.

So Loki didn’t move. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off into a deep sleep again, and once again, he didn’t have any nightmares.

-x-x-x-

The tent was quiet. Too quiet. Loki couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dinner in silence. Thor was an abnormally loud guy after all. If he wasn’t talking or laughing, he was munching his food or drinking his ale obscenely loud, slurping it from his goblet, but tonight was different, and Loki couldn’t help but take in the way Thor was staring at his plate of food, chasing cherry tomatoes around the plate with a fork, lost in thought.

Loki didn’t say anything, though. He didn’t ask any questions or try and make light conversation simply because he felt strangely fascinated by the prince of Asgard at the moment. He’d never seen him so contemplative, had never seen such a pensive mood lining his face. He seemed troubled, a heavy burden resting on his shoulders, dragging him down, but Loki forced himself not to care. He did _not_ care.

Thor’s vibrant blue eyes looked up suddenly, catching Loki as he was staring.

Loki didn’t look away and he refused to feel embarrassed. Yes, he’d been caught staring. So what?

He brought a small piece of pork to his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, still holding Thor’s gaze unashamedly. Thor didn’t plan to look away apparently, nor did he seem like he was about to speak, but Loki was past the point of feeling awkward or intimidated by his presence or the silence surrounding them. He steadily held that bright blue gaze while desperately holding onto his not-caring attitude. It was hard, though, so Loki blamed his sense of curiosity when he broke the silence.

“You’re very quiet,” He noted before sticking another small piece of meat in his mouth. He wasn’t hungry at all, but he wanted to keep his hands busy.

Thor’s gaze instantly turned apologetic. “I’m not enjoyable company,” He said, “I’m aware.”

Loki shrugged, once again forcing himself not to care. “What’s wrong?” He asked, just for the sake of making conversation. That, and Thor seemed like he could use a listening ear. Why Loki decided he could be that listening ear was beyond him, but he didn’t ponder on it for too long.

A heavy sigh came from Thor’s lips. “The war won’t end soon,” He said.

It was enough to have Loki frown, his lips pursing together as he tried to understand what Thor meant by that. It wasn’t a difficult message, but he had trouble understanding where it was coming from all of a sudden. “Your father and my king are engaged in peace-negotiations,” He replied, carefully choosing his words, not wanting to let the truth slip. It would lead to nothing good. “The war could end any day now.”

Thor’s eyes fell to his plate again.

Loki continued to stare at him, truly not understanding what was happening, what Thor was telling him, until it clicked suddenly. Loki wanted to hit himself on the head. “Your father isn’t interested in peace, is he?” He found himself asking with a surprisingly soft and fragile voice. Honestly, it was so obvious. Or maybe it wasn’t, but Loki liked to think he knew the Asgardians – knew of their barbarism, their cruelty, their vanity, their arrogance and narcissism. The list could go on for a while, but it mattered little at the moment.

When Thor stayed silent, Loki let out a frustrated sound. “Of course,” He said with a harder and sharper voice. He threw his fork down, done eating now, unable to get anything else in his stomach after this news. “Why would Odin form a peace-treaty with Jotunheim when he’s already winning the war?” He asked bitterly. “A peace-treaty would gain him nothing but peace, and what good does that do him? Your father has always been after Jotunheim’s fertile lands and there is only one way he’ll get those – by annihilating us all!”

Loki was faintly aware that he’d been shouting at the end – Thor had tossed him a surprised, yet unimpressed look – but he didn’t care. This news fueled his anger and hatred for the Asgardians again and it helped him be reminded what exactly was going on outside of Thor’s tent, outside of this camp – a war, one that was far from over.

“So what exactly has been the point of these last few weeks?” He demanded to know.

“Recuperation,” Thor answered without missing a beat. He leaned back into his chair and picked up his goblet of ale, taking a casual sip. “The last few battles wore everyone out. These negotiations have given us _and_ Jotunheim the chance to strengthen ourselves again. They will end soon, though, so it’s only a matter of days before the camp moves out again and we near the next battle.”

“Terrific,” Loki spat sarcastically. He stood from the table and moved to the other side of the tent, needing more distance between him and Thor. It had been a while since he’d hated him as much as he hated him now. He knew it wasn’t so much Thor he was pissed off with – he was actually furious with Odin Allfather who thought the world would fall to its knees for him – but Thor happened to be around the most and he needed to vent his anger somehow.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a scene,” Thor said.

Emerald green eyes latched onto bright blue ones, and Loki knew he was on the verge of exploding. “A scene?” He asked loudly, his voice rising in decibels again. “By the gods, why would I be making a scene?” He kicked at a chair that stood beside the bed, cursing himself for having forgotten that Thor was actually the second biggest asshole in this camp – Fandral being the biggest one.

“You’ll be safe,” Thor said, unmoving, though his gaze tracked every movement Loki made. Loki wanted to rip out his eyes for that. “You’re done fighting, you’re no longer–”

“Don’t you dare,” Loki hissed, every muscle in his body locking in place. He didn’t know whether that happened because of the rage coursing through his veins or the sadness filling him. The idea of his father’s warriors fighting battles, of his brother on the front line, of his people perishing, it made Loki’s eyes sting with tears. “I am and I will always be a warrior of Jotunheim,” He insisted, brazenly holding Thor’s gaze. His hands had formed tight fists. “You can’t reduce me to being your prisoner. I’m more than that.”

Thor’s features softened, his composure resigned all of a sudden. “I know.”

Loki plumped down on the edge of the bed, deflating. “Good,” He said. He’d hoped to sound cold and distant, but somehow he’d only sounded soft and tired. His gaze fell to his hands lying in his lap, his fingers spread wide, and he stared at the palms of his hands, finding eight nail-imprints after how tight he’d balled his hands into fists, a few drops of blood having pooled together.

He didn’t look up when he heard Thor move, nor did he look up to meet his gaze when he squatted down before him. He just continued to stare at his hands as Thor wiped away the blood with a wet cloth, his movements slow and calculated and, most of all, gentle.

“I don’t like what’s happening either,” Thor said quietly after a few long moments. The blood was gone, but his hands were still folded around Loki’s – Loki who knew he should pull away, should curse and shout at him, but he lacked the strength. “I would end the war if I could, but I’m not the king.”

Loki only nodded before he finally pulled away from Thor and lay down, curling in on himself. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him anymore, didn’t want to face him anymore or hear his voice again. He wanted the silence back and, most of all, he wanted his freedom back, but since the latter was impossible, he’d settle for the former. Thor seemed to understand the hint. The prince of Asgard stood and returned to sit at the table.

Loki’s eyes closed a moment later. It was still early in the evening, but he was tired and sleep would bring more peace. That was what he was hoping for at least.

-x-x-x-

Loki woke an hour later to an empty bed. That wasn’t what had woken him, of course. He couldn’t care less whether Thor lay beside him or not – though his warmth did soothe him at times. It was a thought Loki quickly disregarded. No, what had woken him was a slick, popping sound coming from somewhere at the other side of the tent. He carefully shifted his head, not wanting to draw any attention, his gaze seeking the origin of the sound, and when he found it … He froze, but not in a bad way, necessarily.

Emerald green eyes focused on Thor sitting on a chair tucked away in the corner of the tent, candlelight illuminating his surroundings, casting everything in a deep orange color. His head was thrown back, and shadows played along his broad chest that was covered with a thin layer of sweat. The muscles of his stomach rippled with every movement he made. Loki’s gaze dropped further down, to Thor’s hand curled around his hard length, stroking it slowly. His muscled thighs were spread wide, his hips bucking upward with every stroke he gave himself.

Loki couldn’t help but stare. He’d never seen Thor naked before, nor had he wanted to, but to find him sitting like that, soft moans falling from his lips – it was nothing short of mesmerizing. Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t stop watching the way Thor’s hand moved up and down, pumping himself to completion, all the while wondering why Thor was sitting _there_ , wondering why he’d turned to his own hand instead of …

He couldn’t complete the thought. A sense of relief flooded Loki in that moment, a small smile curving the edges of his lips upward.

When Thor came, spilling all over his hand, stomach and chest, his moans became louder, yet he was still obviously trying to muffle them. How, Loki could not tell, not until he lifted his head a little and found that Thor was biting down on his other hand. Moments passed until Thor’s body eventually settled down again, his muscles relaxing, his hand falling away from his now flaccid cock. He was still breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

Thor lifted his head, blue eyes finding Loki.

Nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

Loki slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, never looking away, showing Thor that he wasn’t afraid of him, nor was he disgusted or disturbed. He only felt grateful which wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to feel after finding Thor jerking off in a quiet corner of the tent.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Thor said casually as he rose from the chair and shrugged on a red and golden dressing gown which he wrapped around his body, tying the silky rope together around his waist.

Loki believed him, but he didn’t say anything. He simply watched as Thor moved to the large bowl of water and cleaned his hands. He took hold of the cloth he’d used to clean the blood off of Loki’s hands earlier, rinsing it, and then used it to wipe the cum off of his stomach and chest. He looked so casual doing it and he certainly had no shame about it either. Loki supposed he didn’t _need_ to feel ashamed.

“Thank you,” He found himself saying suddenly. Thor’s bright blue eyes snapped up to meet his emerald green ones again, confusion furrowing his brow, but Loki didn’t say more. He moved to lie down again, his back toward Thor, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but see Thor stretched out on the chair again, though, couldn’t help but see the way his body had moved, the way his muscles had rippled just underneath his golden skin. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a partially pleasing image to have in his head.

When the mattress shifted a little beneath him – Thor having come to bed as well – Loki rolled over, his body turned toward Thor. He didn’t even know why he did it, but he shuffled a little closer, feeling Thor’s warmth move over him like a blanket. He could smell a peculiar mixture of soap and something that was completely and irrevocably Thor, but he didn’t mind.

He fell asleep again a few minutes later.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki woke up feeling warmer than usual, but his sleep-fogged mind had trouble understanding why, and he didn’t exactly put in a lot of effort to unravel the mystery. The warmth was nice, comforting even, and a part of him didn’t want to leave this state of mind just yet. He wanted to revel in this moment of bliss before he would truly wake and be forced to face the reality that was his life.

Seconds ticked by and slowly Loki opened his eyes, blinking away the daze, patiently waiting for his surroundings to come into focus. He was lying in bed, curled up as usual, but he wasn’t facing Thor for the first time in over a week. He wasn’t clinging to his shirt as he’d done after his confrontation with Fandral. Loki frowned and shifted where he lay, only to discover that the extra warmth came from an arm that was draped over him. For one brief moment, his chest tightened, his heart skipping a beat, only to remember that he was safe, that he hadn’t been hurt, and that perhaps he wouldn’t be hurt at all. _Perhaps_.

Carefully, he turned around and found Thor still asleep, his features calm, his eyes moving ever so slightly behind closed lids. Loki watched him for a moment, wondering what a man like Thor, a man who had everything, dreamed about. It was strange to see him so peaceful, to find his chest moving up and down at such a serene pace, his muscles completely relaxed. Loki shifted some more, seeking a more comfortable position to lie in, when Thor’s arm threatened to slide off of his waist. Thor’s grip tightened suddenly, his fingers gripping the bed-sheet covering him. His brow creased into a troubled frown, his lips pressing together, and the hand that lay beside his pillow balled into a firm fist, his knuckles turning white.

Loki didn’t understand what was happening, nor could he begin to guess as to why Thor turned so tense all of a sudden, why it was _he_ who clung to him now, that arm around him holding him so very tightly, but he figured it was all because of a dream. Without thinking, he placed a hand on top of Thor’s fist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. Thor’s features softened as he released a heavy sigh while his muscles relaxed again. For a long moment, nothing happened, and then he blinked open his blue eyes, his gaze hazily connecting with Loki’s emerald green ones. There was nothing but silence as they stared at each other, and truly, Loki couldn’t look away. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Thor’s head.

“You were dreaming,” He said eventually. He faintly realized that his hand was still resting on top of Thor’s and that Thor’s arm was still draped over his body, but he found that it didn’t frighten him. It didn’t make him feel vulnerable as it would have just a few weeks earlier.

Thor nodded. “Every man dreams.”

Loki rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile around the corners of his lips.

“A philosophical attitude doesn’t suit you,” He said. It earned him an amused look from Thor, but it wasn’t enough to distract him. “What were you dreaming about?” He asked even though he didn’t know why it interested him so.

Perhaps he just wanted to know how Thor ticked. Perhaps he just wanted to fill the silence with some light conversation even though the subject wasn’t all that light. In any case, Loki wanted to know so he would pry the answer out of Thor if he had to.

Thor’s gaze dropped.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Is it that embarrassing?” He asked in what he hoped would be a light and carefree tone, but the truth was that Thor’s reaction scared him. Perhaps prying wasn’t such a good option after all, not here, not now. Perhaps what went on in that head of his was best left concealed.

“It was about you,” Thor explained. For the first time, his blue eyes revealed insecurity and they had trouble holding Loki’s gaze as if he was uncertain of what he would find in Loki’s expression. Loki swallowed heavily and stayed quiet. “I dreamed of the night Fandral and Volstagg attacked you.” It was enough to make Loki pale, but he refused to look away, as did he refuse to let any memories overwhelm him. He reminded himself that he was safe, that he was with Thor, and that there was nothing to fear. “In my dream, I heard you scream like I did that night, but I couldn’t reach you in time. I couldn’t reach you at all, no matter how fast I ran.”

Loki bit down on his tongue, forcing himself to think before he spoke, but the words slipped from him anyway. “Why does that upset you?”

The muscles in Thor’s shoulders tensed, his eyes filling with something akin to bewilderment. “Why wouldn’t that upset me?” He asked, genuinely sounding like he couldn’t believe Loki would pose such a question. He somehow had the audacity to sound insulted as well. “I’m not a monster, Loki. Your pain doesn’t leave me unaffected.”

Loki pulled away and sat up, ignoring the hint of regret in Thor’s eyes and ignoring the tightening of his own chest as he distanced himself from him.

“You’re a hypocrite,” He said with a sharp voice. He watched as Thor sat up, too, the bed-sheets falling away from his body. He wore nothing more than a pair of red linen trousers. “You can’t stand my screams when they are caused by the hands of others, but when you were forcing yourself on me the first day you took me as your spoil, you were entirely unfazed.”

There came a long silence, but Loki refused to be the one to break it.

Thor stared at his hands lying awkwardly in his lap.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why,” Loki replied.

He turned his body toward Thor and waited until the prince of Asgard finally looked up to meet his angry gaze – because he _was_ angry and most of all, he was confused. He wanted to hate that man, but he was being an asshole by being so nice to him. It was infuriating.

“Why am I still here? What are you waiting for?” He watched as those usually bright blue eyes darkened at his words, but Loki didn’t think Thor had the right to feel angry, too. “For me to be unbroken?” He continued, his voice growing sharper and harder with every word he spoke. “Or is Fandral right? Are you not interested in me anymore because he has had me first?”

Thor let out a frustrated and incredulous sound. “Are you really giving thought to what Fandral has said to you?” He asked in return, hostile.

“Then do it,” Loki spat. Without thinking – because thinking too much would do him no good – he moved closer toward Thor and threw a leg over his muscled thighs, effectively straddling him. His hands gripped Thor’s upper arms to steady himself, his nails digging deep into his skin. “Go on, do it!”

“ _No_.” Thor snapped as he shoved Loki away from his lap.

Loki landed on his back, but he quickly scrambled up into a sitting position again, his chest heaving with how hard he was breathing. His eyes stood wide and unblinking, simply because he feared that should he blink just once, tears would escape from the corners of his eyes. He stared at Thor, wishing he could read him, wishing once again that he knew what was going on in that thick skull of his.

“Then why am I still here?” He finally asked, hating that his voice sounded nothing more than a broken whisper.

Thor’s voice didn’t waver. “You know why.”

“Bullshit,” Loki snarled with newfound strength. He refused to be broken again, refused to let Thor ruin him. “I know nothing my king doesn’t already know.” It was a lie and he knew it, but what did it matter that the peace-negotiations were a farce? They would end soon enough anyway. “I’m not a threat, Thor, so why are you so protective of me all of a sudden? Why are you giving me daggers and teaching me how to shoot a bow?”

“Because you were right!” Thor shouted.

It was enough to have Loki flinch, to have every muscle in his body lock into place. He hardly dared to breathe because the fact remained that he was nothing. Thor could do whatever he wanted to him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You were right,” Thor repeated in hushed, but sharp tones, “I thought it would be fun to have someone chained to my bed, someone I could fuck whenever I wanted and however I wanted.”

Loki forced himself to breathe, forced himself to look at Thor.

“And oh,” Thor continued, producing a stifled laugh. There was nothing humorous about it. “I would have fucked your brains out had I been given the opportunity during those first few days. I wouldn’t have cared how much you would have screamed. You were nothing to me, Loki, just an object I could use, something I could play with.” His gaze softened suddenly, a trembling hand running through his long, blond hair. “And then I saw Fandral and Volstagg with you and I saw myself. I saw a monster and I never felt more disgusted with myself than in that moment.”

For the longest moment, nothing happened. Loki couldn’t move, couldn’t even bring himself to form coherent thoughts. He could only stare at Thor and let his words settle in. After swallowing heavily, he sucked in a sharp breath and told himself to calm down, to stop shaking so much.

“I don’t know,” Thor sighed, no longer looking at him, “Maybe I’m trying to make amends or something.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Loki asked. “I’m your spoil of war. You owe me nothing.”

“I don’t consider you to be–”

“Stop,” Loki interjected. Thor’s eyes darted up to meet his and Loki found them drained and exhausted. “Stop making me believe that I am something I’m not. Stop making yourself believe it.” Thor frowned slightly, but Loki continued, knowing full well that Thor understood his every word. “If you really wanted to make amends, you’d give me a horse and let me return home.”

There was only silence.

Thor’s lips were pressed together tightly.

“Exactly,” Loki smiled spitefully, “Stop fooling the both of us, Thor. You may say whatever you want, but the truth remains that you like me being here. I might not be chained to your bed anymore, but I’m still chained to you. I’m dependent on you and _that_ you like.”

Thor’s hands grabbed his shoulders suddenly, pushing him back into the mattress, easily pinning him down.

“Is this what you want then?” He asked viciously. All sense left Loki’s body as he felt Thor’s hands on him, as he felt his touch rough and painful. Loki squirmed and let out a pitiful sound, thinking that this was it, that Thor would finally break him into a million little pieces, just like Fandral and Volstagg had. “Do you want me to be a beast and fuck you?”

Loki whimpered and turned his head away from Thor, wondering where the hell his strength had gone all of a sudden, wondering why the hell he couldn’t bring himself to fight, to scratch at Thor’s face or try and kick him. No, he found himself frozen, breath trapped inside of his chest, his entire body seemingly lit on fire. Everything hurt.

“Do you really want to hate me so?” Thor hissed, his nails digging painfully deep into the skin of Loki’s shoulders. His breath ghosted over Loki’s face. “Must I really give you a reason? Well, go on then. _Scream_. Beg me to stop and beg me to–”

“ _Stop_ …” His eyes fluttered shut. He hated himself when he felt tears stream down his face.

Much to his surprise, Thor’s hands instantly disappeared from his shoulders, and Loki quickly scrambled away from the bed, nearly tripping over his own feet as he moved to the corner of the tent. He was breathing hard – perhaps even hyperventilating – and his entire body trembled. He wrapped his arms around himself, his gaze locking with Thor’s, wanting, no, _needing_ to see what he would do next.

“Now you have what you want,” Thor said emptily. After having gotten out of the bed, he pulled on a white shirt before shrugging on a red leather vest. Somehow he seemed unable to look at Loki – Loki who still stared at him with wide, panicked and petrified eyes. He walked toward the table and filled a goblet with water. He drank it empty before he turned toward Loki, his blue eyes dark and shielded, impenetrable. “See me as the monster,” He said, slamming down the goblet onto the surface of the table. Loki flinched. “Hate me.”

With that, he left, and Loki found himself sliding down to the ground, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. He wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his head, more tears streaming down his face. He didn’t care how hard he cried. He didn’t care how long he sobbed and gasped for air as he desperately tried to overcome the fear and panic that paralyzed him.

He just sat there.

And he cried.

-x-x-x-

He didn’t see Thor that day. He didn’t see Sif either, though he knew she was right outside of the tent. He could go to her and just sit with her, knowing that she wouldn’t ask any questions or try to make conversation, but Loki didn’t long for company. He wanted to be left alone and he’d gotten his wish. He’d spent the day in silence, repeating the events of that morning over and over in his head, wondering why he had felt the need to push Thor over the edge like that – because hadn’t he done exactly that? He’d pushed Thor, and now, each time he closed his eyes, he could still feel his hands on his shoulders, holding him down.

Loki occupied himself by hating him which had become easier now. He cursed that man for having taken him prisoner, cursed him for keeping him here and treating him like a guest while he was anything _but_ a guest. They were all hypocritical assholes, and Loki couldn’t help but think that the only person in this camp that didn’t bother to put up any facades was Fandral. That guy had never made it a secret that he was a bastard of the first hour.

It was already dark outside when the flap of the tent was pushed aside. Loki’s emerald green eyes snapped up, expecting to see Thor entering the tent, only to find that it was Sif who walked in, a plate of food in her hands. She set it down on the table and turned to look at him, her dark brown eyes taking in his form as he sat on top of the bed, leaning back against the headboard, legs folded underneath his body.

He didn’t like the way she was looking at him.

“You should eat while the meat is still hot,” She said after a long silence, pointing at the plate.

Loki shook his head and crossed his arms before his chest. “I’m not hungry,” He said stubbornly. For all intents and purposes, he should be hungry. He hadn’t eaten since last night, but the mere thought of getting anything in his stomach made him feel sick.

“Thor warned me you might say that,” Sif replied. Her features revealed nothing, but that was basically her default-expression. Still, it made Loki wonder if she knew what had happened in the morning.

“Did he now?” He asked, his eyebrows rising. “Did he tell you to stuff it down my throat then?”

Her gaze narrowed, and Loki felt as if she could read every thought that flitted through his mind. “I’m not a fool,” She said evenly, “I know something has happened. I’ve not seen Thor so … angry in weeks, months even.” She took a small step toward him, and Loki glared at her, warning her to stay away. He wanted her to leave so he could stew in his own anger and hatred again. “Has he hurt you?”

Loki sprung up to his feet, but he managed to keep himself from closing the distance between them. He didn’t know what he would have done to her should he have closed the distance. He certainly knew that there was nothing he _could_ do to her, but in that moment, the sight of her pissed him off just as much as thinking of Thor did.

“I am _not_ –” His breath was trapped within his chest, his fingers itching to destroy something. “–some delicate flower!”

Sif inclined her head, her eyes falling away from him for the first time since she had entered the tent. “My apologies,” She said, “I meant no offense.”

“Oh, _everything_ is meant as an offense,” Loki spat. He began pacing the floor, his nail re-opening the small cuts in the palm of his hand with how hard he was making fists again, but he didn’t care. He welcomed the pain and used it to fuel his rage. Better to be enraged than to be slowly torn to pieces. “I am forced to wear your clothes and I am forced to eat your food.” He took hold of one of his daggers he kept hidden near the small of his back and drove it deep into the mattress of the bed. It didn’t make him feel as good as he’d hoped it would. “I’m forced to wait here, day after day, for Thor to finally remember why he’s taken me prisoner in the first place while you sit outside, guarding me!”

Sif just stood there, watching him rage, and it was enough to have Loki falter. He exhaled slowly and pressed his lips together, refusing to make a sound, knowing that should he attempt to say anything now, he would probably end up crying again. He’d cried enough for one day. He’d been broken enough.

“You want to know what I think?” She asked after a long silence.

Loki released a shuddering breath and blinked away his tears. He focused on the pain in his hands, focused on the way he felt drops of blood trickle down his fingers. “No, I don’t want to know what you think,” He said coldly, “But you will share your opinion anyway so go ahead.”

“You want to hate him,” She said, and Loki didn’t like the way she sounded so confident of her words, “You want Thor to be a bastard again, like he was in the beginning, but he’s changing and that leaves you … confused. Don’t feel bothered, though, we’re all confused.” She laughed softly, warmly. “Thor hasn’t been this amiable and kindhearted since … well, ever.”

“I’m no longer confused,” Loki replied, his emerald green eyes piercing Sif’s dark brown ones, “No, now more than ever do I know where we stand.” Sif parted her lips to speak, but Loki didn’t give her the chance. “Now are you going to force that food down my throat or are you going to leave?”

Sif inhaled sharply, looking like she was generally contemplating her options, but then she nodded her head once and spun around, walking out of the tent.

Loki didn’t touch the food.

-x-x-x-

That night, he slept alone.

He woke in the middle of the night, breathing hard, a thin layer of sweat covering every inch of his skin. He needed a minute to convince himself that there was no one around, that Fandral wasn’t inside of the tent, watching him, waiting for the right moment to attack him. He needed another minute to remember that Thor didn’t lay beside him either, that no comforting hand would pull him out of his anxiety and ground him in reality.

He couldn’t settle down again, couldn’t get comfortable with the idea that he was alone, so he didn’t sleep anymore. He just waited for the morning to come.

-x-x-x-

The next day, he didn’t see Thor either which bothered him more than it should. It made him wonder if Thor was done with him for good, which could lead to two possible outcomes. Either he would be allowed to return home soon – highly unlikely – or he would be executed like his fellow warriors had been the day they had lost the battle. Of course there was a third option. Thor could just toss him out of the tent and declare him fair game for anyone out there, but Loki crossed that off of the list. He might have pissed off Sif yesterday evening, but he doubted she would let that happen to him. He wondered if she would stop his execution.

Thinking of Sif made him feel overwhelmed with guilt. She had only ever been kind to him, had protected and looked after him, and he’d repaid her by yelling at her. When she had brought him breakfast during the morning – which he had only eaten after she had told him he should keep his strength up at least – he had been so very close to apologizing, only to find that he couldn’t. He’d nearly asked her about Thor, too, but again he hadn’t been able to find his voice. Afterwards, he’d been relieved about that.

Now the sun had set again and Loki wondered if Thor would return tonight. It was actually kind of funny that the great prince of Asgard refused to return to his own tent simply because he was there. At least, Loki assumed that was the reason. Still, Thor avoiding him meant he’d been able to spend his day in silence again. It was a nice change.

But sleeping was out of the question. Loki felt uneasy and fearful. Sleeping meant having nightmares again and this time, there would be no one around to pull him out of it. He refused to think that he wanted Thor to return, however, refused to think that he’d sleep better with him lying beside him. It simply wasn’t true. Loki lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling of the tent, his hands folded underneath his head. He thought of Thor’s confusion, thought of how he’d seen himself as a monster – which he was. Loki remembered his insecurity as he had told him about his dream, remembered his anger as he’d pushed for the truth, but more than anything, he remembered Thor’s hands on his body.

A noise outside of the tent drew his attention.

Loki quickly sat up and stared at the flap of the tent, waiting for Thor to appear, for him to walk inside like nothing had happened, a child-like grin on his face, but there came no one. The noise sounded again, however, stifled and barely audible really, but Loki was too paranoid to ignore it. Shifting off of the bed, he quietly walked toward the flap and pushed it aside a little, only so he could peek outside. The only light-source came from the moon and the various campfires, but Loki could see enough.

Sif wasn’t sitting on the log as she usually would. No, she stood to the side of the tent, her back pressed against one of the bigger tent-poles, her long legs locked around Thor’s naked waist. Loki could only stare at the way Thor’s hips snapped upward, producing a sharp slapping sound, could only watch as Sif’s entire body rocked with every thrust he gave. Thor’s hands held on firmly to her thighs, holding her up as Sif threw her head back when he gave her a particularly hard thrust. Her arms around his neck tightened their hold. She was breathing heavily, soft moans falling from her lips, her eyes having fallen shut. Thor buried his face in the crook of her neck while he lifted her a little bit higher – and that was when Loki couldn’t bring himself to watch any more.

He stepped back, the flap falling into place again. Truly, he didn’t know what to think. Perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking anything at all. Was it that much of a surprise that Thor and Sif were more than just friends? Thor was the prince of Asgard after all and Sif was the only one who didn’t take any of his shit. Still, Loki distinctly remembered Thor telling him that she wasn’t his queen-to-be and – Loki stopped himself.

He didn’t care.

He did _not_ care who Thor screwed, as long as it was not him.

Moans continued to drift into the tent, soft and muffled, and Loki found himself locked into place. He couldn’t move and even though he didn’t want to hear Thor coming, he still found himself listening to his groans. He imagined he was clinging to Sif now, kissing the side of her neck while he filled her. Better her than him. Better _her_ than _him_. It was a mantra he repeated over and over.

For a moment, Loki heard nothing, but he still couldn’t move. He still couldn’t lose the image of Thor and Sif together. He imagined they had gotten decent again now and that they were walking toward one of the campfires, ready to spend the evening together, laughing and drinking. Loki didn’t know why he felt so frustrated by that idea.

“How is he?”

Loki’s eyes snapped up at the sound of Thor’s voice. Apparently, they hadn’t yet left. Loki couldn’t help but take a step closer to the flap again, wanting to hear what Sif would reply. They were speaking of him, they had to be. It was enough to have his heart beat faster within his chest, his hands turning cold and clammy.

“Still pissed off,” Came Sif’s reply. She sounded annoyed, and Loki could just picture the look she was sending Thor – cold, sharp, possibly a bit condescending. “What did you do, Thor?”

There was a short silence, and Loki could imagine Thor staring at Sif, wondering if he would tell her the truth or not. Loki didn’t think he had it in him, didn’t think he would want to risk Sif’s wrath. Or perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps Sif wouldn’t care what he had done since he hadn’t actually been hurt. He’d just been frightened out of his mind.

“He wanted a reason to hate me,” Thor said eventually. Loki refused to hear the sadness in his voice. “So I gave him a reason.”

“You–” There came a dull thud, perhaps Sif punching her fist against Thor’s shoulder. “– _bastard._ ” Loki couldn’t help but frown a little. Maybe it was the kind of reaction he should have expected from Sif, but somehow it didn’t make sense. He was well aware of her background, of what she had suffered through, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she cared so much about his fate. “You can’t do anything right, can you?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t be a fool, Thor,” Sif replied sharply. They were obviously trying to keep their voices down, probably not wanting anyone to listen in to their conversation. It would explain why they had fucked so … quietly even though Sif had looked like she’d wanted to scream Thor’s name. “For the first time, for the very first time, you were being a decent human being,” She continued, displeased, “I saw you with Loki and I saw a good man.”

“I _am_ a good man.”

Loki actually rolled his eyes. Leave it to Thor to sound so arrogant.

“You’re an asshole,” Sif snapped back, and yes, yes he was. Loki would have applauded her for it was he not so absorbed in the whole conversation. That and he didn’t want to alert them that he was listening in. The Gods only knew what Thor would do then. “You were no different than Fandral, but you changed.”

Thor snorted, the sound hard and cruel. “No, Loki was right,” He said, and somehow Loki could imagine the look on his face as he spoke those words, could imagine the emptiness to his eyes, just like they had been empty the last time he saw them, “I was only fooling myself.”

“Stop it,” Sif said angrily, “If you really _were_ fooling yourself, you wouldn’t have fucked me tonight. You’d have entered that tent and taken him.” Loki couldn’t help but cast down his eyes, his face growing warm all of a sudden. “You care about him, Thor,” Sif added after a short silence, “It’s why you’re protecting him from your father.”

_What?_

Loki stumbled back. What on earth did _that_ mean? Protecting him from Odin? Since when did he need protecting from him? But Thor was keeping him safe. After all the shit Thor had done to him, he was keeping him _safe_ from the Allfather, his own father, his _king_. Loki couldn’t wrap his head around it and he sure as hell didn’t understand what was happening. He hated Thor for hiding this, whatever this was, and it filled him with dread and fear.

Outside, he heard footsteps and for one brief second he expected Thor to finally walk in, but nothing happened. Loki was left alone. Minutes passed and eventually, Loki moved back to the bed. He curled up and pulled the blanket high up to his chin while he grabbed hold of the two daggers that he kept hidden underneath the pillow. Feeling their weight in his hands made him feel a little bit safer.

He didn’t sleep that night either.

He wanted Thor to come back.


	8. Chapter 8

Somehow, by some miracle, he’d fallen asleep early in the morning. It had been a shallow sleep, uneasy and restless, filled with images and faces Loki couldn’t place. He woke with his heart thrumming wildly inside of his chest and his hands clasped around his two daggers, keeping them close.

His surroundings were quiet and it allowed Loki a moment to settle, to remember where he was and that he was alone.

He wasn’t alone.

Emerald green eyes shifted toward the movement on the other side of the tent, locking with a form that had become so familiar that it instantly helped him relax, tension slipping from his muscles. Thor sat at the table, eating, chewing his food as if he was on the verge of discovering the secrets of universe. Then his bright blue eyes found Loki’s and his jaw stilled. His entire _body_ stilled even though he hadn’t really been moving.

They stared at each other for a moment as if they were both waiting for something, _anything_ , to happen.

Slowly, Loki pushed himself into a sitting position as the memories of the past few days rushed back to him. Thor’s presence soothed him, as it had for a while now, but at the same time it aggravated him beyond reason. He was still furious with him, hating him for everything he had ever done to him – at least, he tried to. It was hard to hate a man that at the same time made him feel safe.

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Thor said after a long silence. He leaned over the table and pushed a plate closer to the edge as if wanting to show Loki the food that he’d brought for him.

From where he was sitting, Loki couldn’t see what was on the plate, but the mere idea of food made his stomach growl. He hadn’t been eating properly – hadn’t been sleeping properly either – and Loki cursed himself for it. He remembered Sif telling him it was important to keep his strength up, but Loki hadn’t listened to her. He should have.

Moving toward the table, he took a seat opposite Thor and glanced at the food in front of him; bread, grapes, even a few strawberries, and cheese. For all intents and purposes, this was a luxurious meal considering they were at war and food was scarce – and considering the fact that he was still technically a spoil of war. He ignored that last part.

“Is this your peace-offering?” He asked. He glanced back up, meeting Thor’s gaze, finding it cautious and nervous, timid and concerned. It wasn’t a look he’d ever expected to see on Thor’s face.

Thor inclined his head, and Loki couldn’t help but think that for the first time he had an air of humility around him. He had a feeling Sif had something to do with that. “I did mean to apologize for my behavior,” He said, “I am sorry for hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Loki said quickly – a bit too quickly. He didn’t bother to cover up his error. Thor had _not_ hurt him, not physically at least, but thinking of how his hands had grabbed him so roughly and pinned him down was enough to have a shiver run down his spine. He knew Thor would never do such a thing again, though. How did he know that? Loki hadn’t the faintest clue.

With calculated movements – though as seconds ticked by, he felt more and more at ease – he began to eat, tearing pieces of the bread and bringing them to his mouth. He chewed them thoughtfully, much like he’d watched Thor do a few minutes ago, while his gaze remained locked onto Thor’s form. It was obviously unnerving him; Loki could tell by the way Thor started to shift in his seat, the way his eyes locked onto everything but Loki’s face, and frankly, it was enough to have the edges of Loki’s lips curve upwards a little.

“These are the last days in the camp,” Thor said after a while. He clearly just wanted to fill the silence between them, but Loki didn’t mind. “We’ll head out soon. Perhaps in two days’ time. Perhaps it’ll take longer.”

“Oh?” Loki asked before he put a grape into his mouth and ate it. “Is your father finally tired of his pretenses?”

The mere mention of the Allfather lead him to thinking of the night before, of hearing Sif talk about how Thor was protecting him from that man. It was enough to have his heart skip a beat, his hunger instantly vanishing as he felt a rush of fear course through his veins and settle in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t show Thor any of that, however. No, he simply continued to tear little pieces of bread apart and eat them, forcing them down his throat. He _had_ to keep his strength up.

Thor shrugged at Loki’s comment, his attention focused on his goblet with fresh, cold water. “Would you believe me when I say that my father shares little with me?” He asked while he seemed mesmerized with the contents of his goblet.

Loki didn’t understand why Thor had trouble looking at him. He appeared … ashamed.

“I would go as far as to say that he hardly trusts me anymore after I killed Volstagg.”

Loki swallowed heavily and gave up his attempts to keep eating. “The Allfather doesn’t like me very much, does he?” He asked, though it was a redundant question.

Thor’s gaze finally settled on him again, those bright blue eyes narrowing suddenly.

“You’re protecting me from him,” Loki clarified.

“Ah,” Thor sighed, inhaling sharply. He continued to look at Loki, his gaze open again, making it easier for Loki to read him. “You heard that.”

“I did,” Loki replied. He leaned back into his chair and forced himself not to look away from Thor, not to stare down at his hands lying awkwardly in his lap. Images of Sif’s legs wrapped around Thor’s hips filled his mind, but he swiftly pushed those away. He didn’t care about who Thor fucked. He did _not_ care. “What’s going on, Thor?” He asked, hating that his voice sounded soft and almost breakable.

“Does it really surprise you that much that my father wants you dead?” Thor asked, eyebrows rising.

Loki felt himself pale slightly, his breath trapped inside his chest for a moment.

“The peace-negotiations are false. My father wants nothing more than to eradicate all Jotuns, to appropriate their lands and confiscate their riches and resources, all that to strengthen Asgard.” Thor sighed heavily, his eyes closing for a moment. He looked tired suddenly. “Yet here I am, protecting one, a Jotun. I even killed one of my father’s men for you.”

“And that’s it?” Loki asked, voice high and sharp suddenly. It wasn’t that he was angry with Thor. He was just angry – with everything and everyone. “Your father wants me dead for reasons that are completely beyond my control?”

Thor pressed his lips together.

“What?” Loki demanded, leaning forward, closer toward Thor. He was about to take hold of his wrist and squeeze in order to demand an answer from him, but he managed to stop himself in time. He just stared at him, emerald green eyes boring into bright blue ones. “ _What_ , Thor?”

And then the answer hit him. Oh, it was so obvious really. It was _so_ obvious that Loki was an idiot for not having thought of it sooner.

 _You care about him, Thor_ , Sif had said, _it’s why you’re protecting him from your father._ Loki didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to believe it before, but now he found Thor staring at him, his gaze shy and unsure, and Loki had no choice but to believe it. He couldn’t help but look away, unwilling to be faced with _that_.

“Whatever my father thinks, whatever he wants,” Thor said after a long silence, “It’s nothing.”

Very carefully, Loki raised his eyes to meet Thor’s again, knowing he would find nothing but determination in his eyes.

“I swear to you, Loki, I will keep you safe. My father can slay any Jotun he wants, he is not touching you.”

Loki sent him a displeased look, his emerald green eyes instantly darkening.

“Alright,” Thor said with a hint of a smile on his face, raising his hands in surrender, and Loki would have smiled back at him, finding the gesture amusing, if it weren’t for the fact that he was feeling so dismayed with Thor’s words, “That was me being an ass again.”

“It really was.”

“I mean it, though,” Thor said, nothing but sincerity in his voice again, “You have nothing to fear.”

Loki inclined his head. He could breathe easier and felt a heavy weight fall off his shoulders. Odin wanted him dead, but it was something he could cope with. Thor caring for him, going as far as to oppose his father for him, protecting him, now that was harder to deal with. Funny how certain things ticked in his head. Still, Loki knew he shouldn’t dwell on it for too long. He would only end up giving himself a headache.

“We could go practice with the bow again this afternoon,” Thor said.

It was enough to make him smile. “I would like that,” He said, enjoying the idea of getting out of this tent for the first time in days.

-x-x-x-

Thor stood talking to another Asgardian warrior Loki had never seen before and he had no interest in discovering who that man was, but he seemed friendly and by the way he was listening to Thor – whatever Thor was saying – Loki could tell he was genuinely interested in what Thor had to say. It was odd to see Thor interact with another human being and not look like an asshole. He wasn’t laughing obnoxiously loud and he didn’t have a condescending look in his eyes. He just stood there, talking, smiling occasionally and nodding his head. It was enough to make Loki feel mesmerized. It was a side of Thor he had never seen before.

“I take it he has apologized.”

His emerald green eyes snapped toward the woman sitting to his left. Sif was still carving into a piece of wood which was now not much longer than three inches. It was perhaps two fingers thick. Slowly, Loki was starting to recognize a shape, but he couldn’t tell yet what it would actually end up being. It didn’t really matter to him. He had no interest in what Sif was making. He _was_ interested in what she had said, however. Six little words that seemed to be laced with an extra significance he hadn’t quite caught on to.

“He has,” He said after a short moment of silence, deciding that he shouldn’t think so much, that perhaps Sif had meant nothing at all, “And then he acted like an asshole again.”

“Well,” She smiled, her brown eyes returning to the small piece of wood that lay in her hand again. She was rubbing her thumb over it, searching for any imperfections. “Some things will never change.”

Loki nodded, smiling faintly in response. “I suppose not.” He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t help but take in her sharp, but beautiful features. Her long, dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail which lay across her right shoulder. Her battle-armor, which she always wore, was made in such a way that there was no denying that she was most definitely a woman. She had soft curves and round breasts and her long legs seemed even longer with the black leather trousers she was wearing. There was no denying – Sif was beautiful.

“What are you looking at?”

Loki’s gaze snapped up to a pair of brown eyes that were staring at him, a hint of annoyance filling them. He was well aware that he had been caught staring and Loki could feel his face become hot, his cheeks most likely reddening.

“You can do better,” He ended up saying. He wasn’t even sure why he was telling her that. He definitely didn’t know if this was a conversation he wanted to have.

“I can do better?” Sif asked, her gaze narrowing. Her hands stilled while her body turned toward Loki. “What on earth are you– _Oh_.” She chuckled softly, warmly, before turning her attention back to the piece of wood in her hand. She began carving into it again, scraping away the bumps. “I don’t know what you are thinking, Loki, but whatever it is, it is wrong.”

Loki couldn’t help but look to where Thor stood. He was still talking to the warrior, still smiling and generally looking like he enjoyed the conversation.

“I saw you two,” He said, and truly, he didn’t know why he was pursuing this issue. It was none of his business, yet the idea of Thor and Sif together somehow … He didn’t know what he was supposed to think. He only knew that whatever he felt was thoroughly confusing.

“And?” Sif asked. Amusement rang clear in her voice. “What, you think we are together?”

Loki didn’t grant her a reply. He figured it was obvious enough.

“Make yourself no illusions,” Sif continued once she understood that Loki didn’t plan on saying anything. She was still looking down at her hands, chopping off small pieces of wood. “A woman has as many needs as a man, and who better to satisfy those needs than the prince of Asgard himself?” She produced a small laugh as her gaze locked with Loki’s again. “I’m not going to spread my legs for just anyone, Loki.”

“I didn’t imply you would,” Loki settled on, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“No worries,” Sif said casually, shrugging a little, “I am not easily offended. As the only female warrior in the Allfather’s army, I must have a thick skin.” There was a pause, the silence strangely heavy. “It’s amusing, though.”

A frown creased Loki’s brow. “What is?”

“To see that hint of jealousy in your eyes.”

“I am _not_ jealous,” Loki snapped. He realized his mistake instantly, but it was too late to take it back or to undo it. His face felt even hotter now and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Sif anymore. Of course, his gaze fell on Thor then – Thor who happened to look back at him in that exact same moment and offered him a kind smile. Loki found himself growing more frustrated than anything. He rose to his feet and turned to look at Sif. “I couldn’t care less who Thor fucks or who you fuck for that matter.”

Sif merely raised her eyebrows.

“Stop it,” He said, but it was a battle he couldn’t win. Producing a frustrated sound, he spun around and headed into the tent.

He cursed Sif and he cursed Thor, but most of all, he cursed himself.

-x-x-x-

The next day, he was still fuming, still stewing in self-hatred. Thor had noticed his behavior during breakfast of course, had even inquired about it, asked if he’d done something wrong, which, of course, had led Loki to cursing him. He hadn’t known what to expect then, but Thor standing, telling him he was to attend the peace-negations, and then leaving, wasn’t what he’d expected. Him getting annoyed and possibly angry would have been a better option. It would have made it easier for Loki to divert his self-hatred toward hatred for Thor again.

But now he sat on the bed, a book lying in his lap that he didn’t actually plan on reading. He just wanted to keep himself busy, but all the books in Thor’s tent were about battle-strategies and histories of previous wars which wasn’t exactly comforting or interesting lecture. Still, somehow Loki felt better with the weight of the book in his hands.

Bright sunlight streamed inside the tent suddenly as the flap was pushed aside and Thor entered. It was enough to have Loki tense, not having expected Thor to return this early. It wasn’t even noon yet! Thor hardly spared him a glance, though, and Loki tensed that much more. He watched Thor, observing him as he moved toward the table to pour himself a large goblet of ale without speaking a word, without even looking up to acknowledge Loki’s presence. Loki had never seen Thor act so … odd and it filled him with a new sense of dread, a heavy weight pooling in the pit of his stomach, dragging him down.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he put his book aside and rose from the bed. He didn’t approach Thor, though. No, he liked the fact that there was some distance between them what with Thor looking so tense. Emerald green eyes watched Thor’s back, noticing the tension to his shoulders, noticing the way every muscle in his body strained with every movement he made. “Thor?”

Thor moved to his usual seat at the table, dropping down on the chair, his gaze fixed on the goblet that was clenched between his fingers. Finally, after seconds of silence, his blue gaze rose to meet Loki’s. “We are heading out tomorrow,” He said with a voice as strained as his body.

“Why?” Loki moved closer toward the table, knowing that it was safe, that while Thor was obviously angry and frustrated, he wouldn’t lash out at him, but Thor’s condition still filled him with fear. Something had happened and it had shaken him. It had thrown a man off balance who was otherwise not so easily perturbed.

“The peace-negotiations have ended,” Thor replied. His gaze dropped to the contents of his goblet before he took another generous gulp. “We march for the capitol of Jotunheim.”

“Okay,” Loki found himself saying, drawing out the word as if that would give him more time to process what Thor was telling him, “And then what?”

Bright blue eyes locked with emerald green ones. “We lay siege to it,” Thor said, his voice heavy and burdened.

Loki didn’t understand. He couldn’t wrap his head around the information and he certainly didn’t understand why Thor was telling him all this and why he looked like the weight of the world was crashing down upon him.

“The gates to the capitol will be closed and the outer walls surrounding it can withstand any attack,” Thor added, “but while that protects the people inside, it also means they will be locked in. They won’t be safe from starvation.”

Loki frowned, confusion replacing his dread. “The capitol can survive for weeks, months even.”

“Asgardians are known for their stubbornness,” Thor merely noted. He was still staring at Loki, staring straight into his eyes, and Loki felt strangely exposed. “Jotunheim is crumbling,” He continued, his voice betraying little emotion. He was just stating facts, and Loki hated him for it. He was talking about his people after all, his land. “It’s only a matter of time before my father wipes you all out.”

His breath was coming out fast now, his heart beating wildly within his chest. Loki didn’t know how to feel right now. He was furious with Thor, furious for daring to say those words, but he was afraid, too. Thor seemed so certain of himself, not a hint of doubt lacing his words. “We’re stronger than you think,” He found himself saying, his voice surprisingly soft considering the plethora of emotions crashing into him like waves crashing into the shoreline, “We won’t just be annihilated. Our king will lead–”

“Your king is dead.”

Loki flinched, his body pressing back into the chair. He felt like he had been slapped across the face, like Thor had spit out the words to hurt him, to break him, but he knew that wasn’t true. Thor was long past the point of trying to hurt him like that. Thor stared at him, his blue eyes showing only regret and sorrow, but Loki couldn’t care less about that. He could only wait for him to take back those words and admit that he lied.

Laufey couldn’t be dead. His _father_ couldn’t be dead.

Without knowing what he was doing, Loki jumped up and stepped back, though he couldn’t bring himself to tear away his gaze from the prince of Asgard. He was still waiting for him to say it was a lie, a joke, something, _anything_ , but Thor stayed silent, those bright blue eyes of his apologetic.

Loki couldn’t handle it. He spun around, only to find himself frozen, unable to move anymore. He couldn’t breathe either.

His father was dead.

“No,” He whispered. Tears filled his emerald green eyes, and Loki pressed his lips together, fearing that if he were to try and speak now, he would only end up sobbing the words. He couldn’t breathe either. He couldn’t _breathe_. Inhaling sharply, he felt his entire body tremble as he fought the devastation that was trying to tear him apart, but he couldn’t let that happen. His father was dead, but Thor didn’t know that. Thor _couldn’t_ know that.

Behind him, he heard movement, and Loki feverishly hoped that Thor would just leave. He needed silence and solitude. He needed a moment to just … break. And then his thoughts turned to his brother. Helblindi would be king now, but he was alone. When they had been children, Helblindi had always told him that he would need him when the day would come, and Loki had always vowed to be there for him, to council him and support him, but he wasn’t there for him now.

Thor stepped before him, his gaze uncertain and helpless.

Loki shoved him away. Then he stepped closer to him and beat his fists against his chest. He didn’t know what he’d hoped to achieve with that. He only knew that he was filled with sadness and anger and fear and confusion, and he didn’t know what to with himself. He just had to do _something_.

“How do you _know?_ ” He demanded furiously, his voice hard and loud. He could hardly recognize Thor standing before him because he had too many unshed tears in his eyes, but he refused to blink, refusing to let them stream down his face. “How could you possibly know that my king is dead?” The more he spoke, the angrier he got.

Thor sighed heavily. “I saw it happen.”

Loki recoiled, eyes narrowing and his lips parting as if he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t produce a single sound. He didn’t understand what Thor was telling him. None of it made sense. “It can’t be,” He eventually said, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper, “It _can’t_ be. The peace-negotiations haven’t ended yet so there is no possible way–” His eyes widened in realization, his heart skipping a beat. “No,” He breathed, “No, _no_.”

“I’m sorry, Loki,” Thor said, and truly, he sounded sincere.

Loki closed the distance between them, his fists swinging at Thor’s body. He hit his chest, his arms and his stomach. He tried going for his face, too, but Thor shielded that. He didn’t even try to stop him, which only caused Loki to hate him that much more. He screamed at him, cursed him and cursed every Asgardian that still breathed.

Eventually he turned his rage toward the rest of the tent, kicking at every object he found and throwing around every book, goblet and tankard he could lay his hands on. He just wanted to destroy, just like _he_ had been destroyed.

Arms wrapped around his body.

“No, let me go!” He turned in Thor’s arms and pushed at his chest. “Let. Me. _Go_.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, sounding out of breath as he kept a firm hold of him.

Loki continued to beat him, continued to knock his fists against his chest until he found himself pressing his face against his shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands gripping Thor’s shirt tightly. He still couldn’t breathe and tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t care. He cried for his father, wishing that Thor would just tell him it had been a lie, that his father was still alive and that he would see him again one day.

“Tell me you didn’t know,” He whispered brokenly after a long time. Thor’s arms were still wrapped around him, holding him, and Loki had no desire to move from where he was standing. His grip on Thor’s shirt was so fierce that his knuckles had turned white. “Tell me it wasn’t you.”

“I swear it, Loki,” Thor told him. He pulled back a little, only so he could look at Loki, his blue eyes revealing genuine compassion. Loki could only stare back on him, unafraid to show the tears that were streaming down his face. “I didn’t know that this was what my father had planned. I didn’t know your king would be killed like this, that he would be betrayed like this.”

Loki continued to stare at him, weighing his words, wondering if he could truly believe them, but with the way Thor was looking at him, with the way his gaze shimmered with exhaustion and empathy, he knew Thor meant every word he said. Without thinking, knowing that thinking never did him any good, he reached up and softly brushed the side of Thor’s face before he pressed his lips against his, kissing him. He needed Thor, and for the first time, he didn’t hate himself for it.

Thor’s arms around his body tightened their grip as he deepened the kiss, and Loki felt himself responding, his eyes fluttering shut. And then it ended. As quickly as it had started, it ended. Pressing his face against Thor’s shoulder again, Loki inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and force himself to stop crying. Tears did him no good. He’d shown enough weakness for one day, though a part of him knew that it didn’t matter. Thor wouldn’t use this against him.

“What can I do?” Thor asked quietly.

They still hadn’t moved.

“Nothing,” Loki whispered. He pulled away from Thor, ignoring the way Thor’s hands lingered on his arms, and then he stood alone. He feared he would fall, feared that he would crash down and weep like a lost child, but somehow he managed to stay standing. “I just want to sleep,” He said as he slowly walked toward the bed, putting one foot in front of the other, carefully, calculatedly, “I just want to … forget, if only for a little while.”

“I can call for Jane and–”

“No.” He lay down and curled up on himself, arms wrapping tightly around his knees. He had gotten his breathing under control, but he couldn’t prevent the tears from slipping down his cheeks. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to stop them. Behind him, he could hear movement, followed by the dipping of the mattress below him. A hand to his shoulder comforted him, fingers squeezing ever so slightly.

“I truly am sorry,” Thor said quietly.

“I know,” Loki replied, sighing. He turned around and gazed up at Thor who was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Loki wondered what he was seeing right now. A broken man? A whimpering, pathetic mess? He didn’t get an answer to his ponderings, nor would he ever, and perhaps that was for the best.

Bright blue eyes grew tentative suddenly, uncertain even, and Loki watched as Thor swallowed heavily, his lips pressed tightly together as he was holding himself back from speaking. Slowly, carefully, as if he expected Loki to lash out at him, he lay down, too, the hand to Loki’s shoulder moving to the side of his neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“King Laufey’s death isn’t the end,” Loki said, his voice a mixture of anger and sadness, “It won’t break us.”

Thor said nothing in return and for that, Loki felt grateful. His agreement would only have felt hollow and his disagreement would have crushed him. Silence was what filled the tent, and it helped Loki clear his mind a little. His heart was still thrumming wildly within his chest, though, as if it was trying to leap out, but Thor’s hand to his neck was yet to move, and it comforted him. He could breathe a little better, and the warmth of Thor’s body was welcome. It felt familiar and Loki found himself shuffling a little closer toward him. He rested his head on Thor’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, calm and strong.

With Thor’s arms around him, he slipped into a dream, exhaustion crushing him even though the day was not yet half done. He dreamt of his father, dreamt of seeing him again. He dreamt he could show him that he had not been killed on the battlefield as every Jotun in the land believed.

When he woke, his cheeks were wet with fresh tears, but Thor was there, still holding him, his broad arms wrapped tightly around him, and in that moment, Loki didn’t need more.


	9. Chapter 9

No matter how much he wanted to mourn his father and cry for him, he couldn’t. Thor didn’t know Laufey was his father after all, nor could he _ever_ know. It wasn’t so much that he feared what would happen should Thor discover the truth of who he was, but he feared what should happen if the Allfather were to discover. It was a thought he didn’t like to entertain.

The next morning, after a long and restless night, he followed Thor out of the tent, hoping that the red circles around his eyes weren’t too obvious. He didn’t know how many times he’d woken during the night – he’d lost count. He didn’t know how many tears had streamed down his face either. He only knew they had left a mark both visible – the red circles – and invisible, his head pounding and his chest aching. In the end, he focused on the relief he was feeling; relief that he was out of tears and that he could finally get a grip on himself.

“Come on,” Thor said as he guided Loki through the tents of the camp. Everyone was busy taking them down, and Loki was glad that they had little attention for him. The few who did glance up at him, he ignored. He had gotten good at that. “I want to show you something.”

Loki’s eyes snapped toward Thor who walked before him. “Show me what?” He asked as he quickened his pace so he could walk beside him. He didn’t care if it was proper or not. Yes, he was Thor’s prisoner, but he sure as hell didn’t behave like one anymore and Thor didn’t seem the mind. And if he _did_ mind, then Loki didn’t care.

“You’ll see in a moment,” Thor smiled. They reached the edge of the camp and approached an area where horses were kept in a large, enclosed field. Various servants were preparing the horses, putting saddles on their backs and making sure they were strapped on properly, and going by how well they were groomed and how expensive their riding-gear looked, Loki assumed that these were the horses of the noblemen fighting in this war, like the king and his son.

Thor guided him toward a horse with a cream-colored coat, its tale and mane white. It was a beautiful animal, though it had been scarred by the war. Loki brushed a hand over its back, feeling the scars beneath his fingertips. They were old and the horse didn’t seem bothered with them. It looked healthy and well-looked after.

Only when Thor placed a hand to his shoulder did Loki look up to find him offering him the reigns, but he was too confused to accept them. Last time they had packed up and left, he had been forced to ride with Thor which wasn’t exactly a memory he treasured, but Loki quickly shook those thoughts away. They were pointless now.

“She is yours to ride as we head for the capitol,” Thor explained.

Slowly, as if still not sure what the purpose was of all … _this_ , Loki accepted the reigns while his gaze returned to the horse. He petted her gently, trying to make her familiar with his touch. A horse was a majestic animal after all and it deserved to be treated with honor and respect.

“What’s her name?” He asked.

“Nausikaä,” Thor answered. He moved to stand beside Loki, his eyes fixed on the horse, too. Loki stared at him for a moment and took in the way Thor was gazing at the horse, like she was the most precious animal in this world, and Loki couldn’t help but wonder who the previous owner had been. He had a feeling Thor had known him. “She was named after a beautiful daughter of a king.”

“It’s a fitting name; she _is_ beautiful,” Loki said, his attention drifting toward the horse again. He knew her previous master had died in battle – otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed to ride her – and he knew she had a special meaning to Thor. Loki was too curious not to ask. “Who did she belong to?”

“My brother.”

Emerald green eyes snapped back toward Thor, confusion filling them. “Your _brother?_ ” His voice was laced with shock and confusion. “I thought you were Odin’s only son.”

“I am his only _heir_ ,” Thor corrected him, smiling sadly. His bright blue eyes were still focused on the horse, and for some reason Loki thought that Thor didn’t want to look at him, that perhaps he was avoiding eye-contact. Why, he couldn’t possibly begin to guess. The workings of Thor’s mind were still a mystery to him. “I’m his only son with queen Frigga, my mother. Balder had a different mother, but that did not make him any less of a brother.”

“I’m sorry to hear that he has died,” Loki said and he meant those words. He knew what Thor had gone through, what he was still going through most likely. He was suffering the pain of a loss himself right now. The mere thought of his father had his chest tighten painfully, his breathing faltering slightly. Loki lifted a hand as if wanting to place it on top of Thor’s as he was petting the horse, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know why. “When did it happen?”

“Three battles ago.” Thor sighed heavily, his gaze locking with Loki’s, and for a moment, nothing happened. They just stared at each other, both at a loss for words, and Loki tried to remember if he had ever seen Thor so broken before, but he quickly had his answer. No, he’d never seen the prince of Asgard display such raw emotions. “My brother loved this horse,” He said eventually, “So you better take care of her.”

Loki smiled gratefully. “I will.”

-x-x-x-

They had finally started their journey to Jotunheim’s capital again. The sun was blaring down on them, which was rather unusual. Jotunheim was a cold country, the weather consisting mostly of rain and wind and snow, but now the sun gave such heat that it caused Loki to feel uncomfortable, his clothes sticking to his body. He never was able to cope with warmth.

His emerald green eyes landed on Thor riding beside him for a moment. The man seemed unaffected by the heat and Loki cursed him for it. Leave it to him to look majestic as ever, his back completely straight, his chin lifted in the air ever so slightly, his blue eyes scanning their surroundings, looking for threats. At least, Loki assumed that was why his gaze kept flitting about.

Feeling bored and thirsty, Loki turned his gaze ahead again and sighed. He didn’t bother looking behind him, knowing who he would find there, and truly, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sif’s amused look. He still couldn’t believe that she thought him jealous about the whole Thor-having-fucked-her-thing. It was too ridiculous for words! But since he couldn’t look back and looking at Thor caused him to think too much, Loki found himself staring ahead, eyes locking with Odin Allfather’s back as he rode a few yards ahead of them. Beside him rode Fandral and the mere sight of him caused his blood to boil. It was strange seeing Fandral with the king of Asgard, but Loki didn’t bother to wonder what it meant. He didn’t care.

It did lead him to think of his father again. He was always thinking of his father now.

“How did my king die?” He heard himself ask. He didn’t know why he even bothered with the question. It mattered little. Laufey was dead and he wasn’t coming back. Still, having just a little bit of information might help him … process it, might help him mourn his father better.

Glancing sideways, he found Thor’s bright blue eyes on him. They stood shielded again, not a trace of emotion to be detected. Loki honestly didn’t know what that meant, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. They were out in the open. Thor couldn’t be seen _caring_ for his spoil of war even though he’d given him a horse to ride. Loki briefly wondered what Odin thought about that before he realized that _oh_ , again he didn’t care.

“His throat was slit.”

Loki exhaled slowly and returned his gaze ahead. “A painless death then,” He said.

There came no reply – not that he had expected one. Loki spent the next few minutes wondering what it must have been like for his father. Had he sat opposite Odin? Had he been looking into his eyes when an Asgardian had stepped up behind him and slit his throat? Had his father’s guards been killed, too? Had there been chaos? So many questions filled his mind, but only one seemed important enough to ask aloud.

“What happened to his body?” He asked.

Thor didn’t answer instantly.

His emerald green eyes focused on the prince of Asgard again. “Thor?”

“He was buried,” Thor replied, regret ringing in his voice.

Tears invaded Loki’s eyes and he quickly looked ahead once more only to find Odin there, and then he no longer knew where to turn. His father’s body hadn’t been returned to the capital, to Helblindi, so he would never receive the burial he deserved. He would never be buried amongst his ancestors, which was a painful thought to have and the idea of his father having been dishonored like that fueled his anger towards the Asgardians again.

“Your father will pay for this,” He swore as he kept his eyes on the horse. His hands clasped the reigns so very tightly, his knuckles turned white. “To kill king Laufey during peace-negations, to kill him on neutral ground where no blood was to be spilled … It is cowardly.”

“Don’t speak too loudly,” Thor chastised him.

Loki didn’t care whether Odin might hear him or not.

“Or what?” He asked sharply. Tears were still in his eyes, but he was focused on his anger more than on his grief and frustrations. “I’ll be beheaded for treason? Honestly, Thor, how many times must I remind you that I am of Jotunheim? I don’t care whether or not he hears me.”

Thor’s face paled ever so slightly, his eyes darting toward his father, but Odin had no attention for them. Loki didn’t even think he could hear them.

“I doubt it would surprise anyone that I hate your father. He is a dishonorable king.”

Thor sighed heavily. “My father already wants you dead,” He said, shaking his head slightly. His blond hair fell around his face. “Do not give him a reason to actually have you executed.”

That silenced Loki. For all the anger and frustration and sadness that filled him, those few words had them all dissipate from his veins. The idea of dying, of having Thor stand there, powerless as someone drove a blade through his heart, was enough to have his chest fill with fear again. He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want Thor to watch him die either.

“I want to go home,” He said quietly, causing Thor to stare at him, his blue gaze uncertain, perhaps even confused. It was hard to read the man at the moment. “I want to return to my family,” He added, thinking only of his brother. Helblindi was the only family he had left now.

“And where is your family?” Thor asked. “In the capital? You want to return to the one place my father intends to burn to the ground?”

“Then don’t let him burn it,” Loki snapped back. Every muscle of his body ached with how tense he was. He could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands again, too, opening old wounds. “You act as though you have no power,” He continued angrily, feeling tired of Thor’s reluctance to act, “But you are the crowned prince of Asgard, Thor, and you could become king if you want to.”

Thor looked like he had been slapped across the face, his lips parted and a frown creasing his brow. “Depose my father?” He realized instantly he’d nearly shouted the words and his gaze instantly snapped toward Odin. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, however, except for Sif, but she clearly had no interest in joining the conversation. “ _Depose my father?_ ” Thor repeated more quietly.

“You have justified reasons,” Loki argued stubbornly, “Odin had his enemy murdered on neutral territory, a _king_ , and he plans to destroy Jotunheim, to have thousands of innocent souls killed. Asgardians will die, too, on the battlefield. But if you were to take the throne from him with the promise of peace, your council wouldn’t have any reason _not_ to acknowledge your claim. You would be saving thousands, Thor. _Thousands_. Besides, Odin is old and he is–”

“Stop it.” Thor was breathing hard, his chest heaving. His eyes had darkened, too. “I will not commit treason.”

Loki stared at him and he knew that whatever he’d hoped to achieve was a lost cause. Thor would not take the throne, would not end this war, and would not stop this madness. It was a crushing thought.

“I want to go home,” He repeated. Thor didn’t reply, nor did he look at Loki. “Your brother died during a battle,” He said, finding Thor’s shoulders tense suddenly, his jaw locked together. “If Odin attacks the city and our armies clash, my brother might die, too. I want to see him and be at his side, fight at his side. I belong there.”

Thor’s gaze fell down, strands of his blond hair falling before his eyes. “The chances that you will die are–”

“I don’t care,” Loki instantly interjected. He swallowed heavily when Thor’s tearful eyes fell on him. The memory of Balder clearly hurt him. “After everything, am I still your prisoner?”

Thor continued to stare at him, taking him in, and Loki boldly met his gaze. “Yes,” He answered eventually, the answer causing Loki’s heart to feel so heavy suddenly, “If it means keeping you safe and alive, then yes, you are still my prisoner."

To that, Loki had no answer.

-x-x-x-

It was a miracle he’d been able to fall asleep as easily and quickly as he had that night, though the last few days had been mentally draining – unfortunately, that didn’t mean he found solace in his dreams, certainly not tonight. Loki dreamt of his father in a tent somewhere, surrounded by Asgardians closing in on him and grabbing him. He dreamt that his father’s throat was slashed by Odin Allfather himself, his father’s blood spilling all over Odin’s cowardly hands. In the dream, Loki stood in the corner of the tent, held back by Asgardians, screaming for Odin to stop, but no matter how hard he tried to rip himself free from all the hands holding him back, he couldn’t reach him. He couldn’t save him.

There was only relief when a hand gently shook him awake. Loki rolled onto his back and groaned when a rock nudged painfully sharp against his back. Sleeping underneath the starry sky had a few advantages, but in all truth, Loki much preferred Thor’s soft and warm bed – it was a thought he quickly discarded. He did _not_ prefer Thor’s bed. No, he preferred his own bed! Oh, it was pointless to try and convince himself the truth was a lie.

Blinking open his eyes, Loki found a pair of dark brown eyes looking down at him. Sif’s hair brushed the side of his face.

This wasn’t what he’d expected, and Loki couldn’t help but look sideways to where Thor had been right before he had fallen asleep, where he should still be, but the spot was empty now. Loki forced away the temptation to reach out and feel whether or not the spot was cold. He didn’t need to know when exactly Thor had left him all alone amongst hundreds of Asgardians who liked to see his blood flow over the ground – though that wasn’t entirely true. Most of the Asgardians couldn’t care less about him. Besides, Sif had yet to leave his side.

Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Loki sat up and asked: “What’s going on?”

Sif hushed him, her eyes instantly flitting towards the sleeping men around them. “We must be quiet,” She whispered as she pulled away the blanket that covered Loki’s body – Loki who shivered when the cold night air engulfed him. “Now let’s go. Thor demands your presence.”

“Why?” Loki questioned distrustfully. He did stand up as Sif wanted and gathered his two daggers, sliding them into his belt by the small of his back. All around them, Asgardians lay sleeping, unperturbed and snoring like they were sawing down wood, yet somehow, their surroundings were eerily silent to Loki’s ears. Various camp fires burned nearby, and Loki knew there were guards everywhere. He had a feeling it was best not to draw their attention.

“Do you think Thor tells me everything?” Sif asked in return, her voice surprisingly tight. She folded a hand around Loki’s upper arm and tugged him along, guiding him through the sleeping area. It was a miracle they didn’t trip over anyone’s feet in the dark. “Thor told me to wake you and bring you to him, so that is what I am doing.”

Loki didn’t ask any more questions. He had the feeling Sif wouldn’t appreciate it – she was adamant about being as quiet as possible – nor did he think she actually held any answers to the questions currently giving him a headache. He didn’t know where she was taking him, which unnerved him, until he spotted various large shadows in the distance, too large to be human. The smell of manure hit him next.

Sif was taking him to the small field where the horses had been gathered earlier that evening.

They opened the temporary fence, and Sif ushered Loki inside, waving around an impatient hand towards the far end of the field where a man stood holding a torch. Loki swallowed heavily and squinted his eyes, restlessness settling in his bones. He had absolutely no idea what was happening or why Sif had brought him here, and the fact that she didn’t seem to know either wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Carefully approaching the figure surrounded by shadows, Loki felt his heartbeat fasten and his fingers itched to take hold of his two daggers. Only his trepidation was for naught, because as soon as Loki spotted a pair of bright blue eyes, he released a breath he hadn’t known to be holding, and he had to fight the urge to run towards him – why he wanted to close the distance between them as quickly as possible, he didn’t know. Instead, he kept his pace slow, yet determined, approaching the crowned prince of Asgard with confidence in his steps. He wanted to tell him exactly what was on his mind, that he didn’t appreciate this mystification, but he never got the chance.

“What took you so long?” Thor demanded the moment Loki was close enough to hear him. He lifted the burning torch higher as to illuminate both Loki’s and Sif’s face. His impatient gaze flickered between the two of them, a hint of annoyance lining his features, which Loki found entirely unwarranted.

“Why am I here?” He demanded to know. It was the middle of the night and frankly, he was tired. Tomorrow, they were all to ride to the capital and prepare to lay siege to it. The mere thought evoked bitterness and Loki crossed his arms before his chest. He refused to do anything without a proper explanation – and he assumed something was expected of him, because why else would Sif have been ordered to drag him out here in the middle of the night?

“It’s a full moon,” Thor said, pointing upwards to the dark sky.

Irritation along with frustration flooded his veins, and Loki threw Sif a quick glance, hoping that perhaps she had an explanation for Thor’s strange behavior, but Sif merely shrugged and stood back, studying her nails. Not that she could actually _see_ her nails. In any case, Loki really shouldn’t have expected any help from her side. He focused on Thor again, his emerald green eyes observing every small movement the man made.

“Yes, I’ve noticed it’s a full moon,” He said with exasperation in his voice. Honestly, if Thor wanted to star-gaze, he could do it on his own.

“You said you wanted to go home, and I’ve given it some thought,” Thor replied with a hint of compliance in his voice. He took a few steps to his left, Loki refusing to follow him since he was still entirely clueless about what was going on, and found Thor halting at the side of a horse – Nausikaä. He brushed a hand through her manes and petted her neck. The horse neighed softly in response. “If my brother were still out there, preparing for battle, I would like to be at his side, too.”

Realization dawned on him. Loki parted his lips to speak, but no words came to him. Was this a trick? Or was Thor actually suggesting what Loki thought he was suggesting? Carefully, tentatively, he moved towards Thor until he could run a hand down the horse’s long, majestic manes, too.

“You’re not fooling me, are you?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Thor let out a soft, almost regretful little laugh. “I am not,” He said.

In the orange light of the torch, his eyes appeared darker than they actually were, which made it surprisingly easier for Loki to spot hesitation and doubt in them. He didn’t question it, however, certainly not when Thor grabbed the reigns of the horse and held them out for Loki to take – which Loki quickly did.

Their hands lingered as they brushed together.

“Now go before I change my mind,” Thor said, stepping back, “The full moon will illuminate your path.”

“I–” Why on earth could he not find the right words? Why on earth did he feel so confused and shocked? Even more, why was there a sense of sorrow settling in the pit of his stomach, dragging him down, making it nearly impossible for him to move? None of what he felt made any sense, and Loki cast his eyes down. “Thank you,” He said after a short and heavy silence.

There was comfort in Thor’s touch as Thor placed a warm hand to the side of his face, and Loki couldn’t help but lean into it, eyes closing. For one short moment, he felt entirely at ease, calmness spreading through him, warming him, and without thinking, Loki looked up and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Thor’s. He curled a hand around Thor’s armor, pulling him close as Thor’s lips moved against his. Loki moaned, his mouth opening to let Thor in, his tongue sweeping across teeth.

The kiss left Loki’s breathless, his chest heaving and his heart beating violently against his ribcage.

Thor stepped back, and Loki felt strangely cold.

“Now go,” Thor repeated. His voice sounded stronger this time.

Loki nodded once, and with Thor’s help, he climbed onto the horse, the reigns firmly in hand. He couldn’t help but look down at Thor, offering him one last smile, to thank him he supposed, before he kicked the horse’s sides with his heels and sent it forward. Loki refused to look back anymore as he rode into the night, the full moon above him granting just enough light for him to see where he was going.

They were about a day away from the capital, and Loki knew that as soon as he would arrive there, he would never see Thor again, except perhaps on a battle field, facing each other as opponents. It was a thought that hurt more than he thought possible.

-x-x-x-

When the walls surrounding the capital doomed up at the horizon, Loki felt a strange constriction move around his chest. He had been riding for hours, every muscle in his body sore, but at the sight of the city, new energy impelled him onwards, kicking the sides of the horse, urging it to go faster. By the gods, he wanted to be home! He wanted to be surrounded by familiar walls and familiar faces.

Riding through the gates felt surreal. He truly hadn’t thought to be back here, to be able to come home again, but here he was. The people around him threw him strange glances, no doubt because of the Asgardian clothes he was wearing, but no one stopped him. This was _his_ city after all and the people here knew him. Occasionally, gasps moved through small crowds and a few people pointed at him and called out his name. Loki wished he could stop to speak to them, to ask how they were doing and to warn them about the hard days that lay ahead, but he couldn’t. He had to reach the castle in the center of the capitol.

The moment he reached the inner court of the castle, servants scurrying about, completing their daily tasks, Loki jumped off of the horse, his entire body screaming in agony. His back was killing him. A stable boy approached him, slowly and cautiously, and Loki turned to him, offering the reigns of the horse to him. The boy’s eyes widened when he recognized him, and Loki couldn’t help but smile at him. Yes, it was definitely good to be home, to be surrounded by people who knew him and liked him and were happy to see that he was alive and well.

“See to it that she’s well taken care of,” He told the stable boy. Nausikaä meant much to Thor after all, and Loki would honor the horse that once belonged to Thor’s brother. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint Thor after all – which was a ridiculous thought to have, and Loki realized he should let go of him. It was much harder than he thought possible.

He walked through the halls of the castle, making his way towards the throne room where he knew his brother would be. Just the thought of seeing Helblindi again had his body thrum with excitement. He couldn’t wait to lay eyes upon him and to embrace him again. A few servants greeted him cheerfully, a few started to cry when they saw him, but still Loki couldn’t bring himself to stay and talk to them. No, the deeper he got into the palace, the faster he began to walk until eventually he was running through the halls.

The grand, oak doors that lead to the throne room were closed, two guards standing on each side, but as Loki came near, they did nothing to stop him from taking hold of the large, metal rings and pulling at them, opening the door. Loki walked inside, his emerald green eyes instantly seeking an identical pair.

Helblindi, standing at the head of the table, bent over maps and papers, looked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened and his lips parted. Color drained from his face and for once brief moment, he faltered, staggering back as if he had seen a ghost. Loki supposed he did.

“Loki?” Helblindi breathed.

“Yes,” Loki replied. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He stood awkwardly before the long table, well aware that dozens of eyes were trained on him, taking in every small detail of his appearance. He wondered what they saw, only to decide that he didn’t care about what those noblemen and knights thought of him. He only cared about one person in this room. “Yes, it’s me,” He told his brother. Tears invaded his eyes, but he didn’t bother to blink them away. He simply couldn’t believe that he was back, that he was home and standing before his brother. “I’ve come home.”

Helblindi closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, arms wrapping around his little brother’s form and holding him close. “I thought you dead,” He said, barely audible, his voice thick with confusion and euphoria, “I thought I had no family left.”

Loki buried his face in the crook of his brother’s neck and inhaled sharply. For so long, he thought he would never be able to hold his brother again, but there he was, with his arms firmly around Helblindi’s shoulders. “I was taken prisoner,” He said, answering the question he knew was on his brother’s mind, “but I … managed to escape.”

“By the Gods,” Helblindi sighed. He released his little brother and took a step back, his eyes blatantly taking in Loki’s form, searching for wounds and scars. He kept a hand to Loki’s shoulder, squeezing it as if he was still trying to convince himself that this was real. “You give me hope,” Helblindi smiled tearfully.

Loki returned his brother’s smile.

It was time to stop thinking of Thor now.


	10. Chapter 10

He didn’t know how long he stood by the window for, his emerald green eyes trained on the fields just beyond the city walls. They were filled with tents and thousands of men preparing to lay siege to Jotunheim’s capital. From where Loki stood, they looked like ants, easy to squash underneath his boot, an idea he enjoyed to entertain until he remembered that _he_ was out there – Thor.

He couldn’t pull his gaze away, no matter how hard he tried. With his arms wrapped around his own middle, Loki sighed tiredly. Sleeping in his own bed had been heavenly, at least it had been for those few hours he’d managed to close his eyes and drift off into a dream. Most of the night, however, he’d spent gazing up at the dark ceiling, wondering what Thor was doing, wondering if he was in trouble for having let him go. And on a few rare occasions, Loki had indulged in the fantasy of Thor lying beside him, those massive arms of his wrapped around his waist.

So lost in thought, he hadn’t heard any knocks to his door until it creaked open.

Loki spun around, his heart skipping a beat until he remembered exactly where he was. There were no enemies within the castle-walls, which meant there was no reason for his hypervigilance – although if he’d really been hyper vigilant, he would have heard the knocks. He blamed Thor for distracting him. It seemed the man still messed with his head even when he wasn’t around.

Hogun stepped into Loki’s main chamber, his back straight and one hand respectfully folded behind his back as he closed the door behind him. All the tension he’d been building in his muscles, unknowingly, slipped away, and Loki couldn’t suppress a smile from curling the edges of his lips upward. It had been weeks since he’d seen Hogun, a loyal knight of Jotunheim and one of Loki’s dearest friends. Hogun was a man of few words, but since their training back when they had been but boys growing up at court, they had become close. They had each other’s back, which was all that mattered to Loki.

Without thinking, forgetting about etiquette, Loki closed the distance between them and embraced the man, uncaring of his opinion on physical contact between two human beings. Hogun had always been a very independent man. Some would even call him detached and unsympathetic. To Loki, it was why he liked so much.

Much to his relief, Hogun didn’t seem to care about personal space right now, because the knight returned the embrace.

“It is good to see you again, my prince,” He said with his distinct heavy accent. Loki couldn’t help but chuckle when he found a small smile on Hogun’s face. Hogun was _not_ the kind of man who smiled. “You look like hell.”

Stepping back, Loki nodded and looked down, wanting to hide the plethora of emotions that overwhelmed him. There was happiness for being home again and seeing Hogun again, but there was confusion, too, because no matter how hard he tried to forget about _him_ , he couldn’t. Thor seemed to be on his mind constantly, and the thought of wanting to be near him again actually pained him.

“I have felt better,” He replied truthfully a few seconds later. He turned away from Hogun and walked towards the round table by the burning fireplace. There stood a jug of wine on top of the table, surrounded by empty silver goblets. Loki filled two and held out one for Hogun to take. “Tell me, what is happening in Jotunheim? How are the people? How is my brother?” There were so many questions on his mind and he wanted to hurl them at Hogun, but that would get him no answers.

“The people are scared,” Hogun answered with a sigh. He sat down at the table and Loki followed his example. Hogun’s dark eyes turned sorrowful, and Loki knew the war was weighing on him, as it was on everyone. But there was no denying that Jotunheim was not only losing battles, but the war, as well. “The Allfather’s army arriving on our doorstep does not help either.”

“I know,” Loki said as he stared at the contents of his goblet, “But Odin Allfather will pay for what he’s done. Killing our king like that, my father …” He couldn’t finish that sentence, not without risking his voice breaking. He’d always thought that being home would relieve him of any pain and confusion and sorrow, but as it turned out, it only amplified all those emotions. Never before had Loki felt so broken and lost. “What about my brother?” He asked, needing the conversation to continue.

“Helblindi is a good king,” Hogun said thoughtfully, “But he’s young and inexperienced. Still, the people have faith in him, and now that you have returned, they believe they stand a chance again, that king Laufey’s sons will guide them to victory.”

“This war is over,” Loki said, shaking his head and silently cursing Odin Allfather, hoping he just would die a slow and painful death, “The army beyond the city’s walls is going to starve and exhaust us, and once they smell our despair, they will attack.”

“You mustn’t speak like that,” Hogun chastised him.

“I’ve been with them for weeks,” Loki said angrily, his emerald green eyes flashing with frustration. He wasn’t going to be overlooked, his voice ignored, certainly not by Hogun. “I’ve suffered at their hand. They are cruel and barbaric, but they are full of spirit, too, and they will not break nor surrender. We, on the other hand, we’ve lost most of our army and we’ve lost our king. What have we got left?”

“You,” Hogun said without missing a beat.

It took Loki off guard, his lips parted to speak, but no words came to him.

“We all thought you were dead,” Hogun continued. He stared directly into Loki’s emerald green eyes. “We gave up, thinking there was no more hope left. Your brother was ready to surrender and give Odin Allfather anything he wanted. And then you appear in the throne room, having survived the Allfather’s imprisonment. People look at you and admire you and draw strength from you.”

“It wasn’t Odin,” Loki couldn’t help but say, “I was Thor Odinson’s prisoner.” He leaned back into the wooden chair and took a large gulp of wine. He would give all his precious belongings to the gods in order to get drunk and have his mind disappear from this conscious world, to experience oblivion, if only for one night. He’d give the world to see Thor again, too, but Loki quickly banned that thought from his mind. “I was taken as a spoil of war,” He said, knowing he had to say something since Hogun was looking at him with the most peculiar look on his face, “No one ever found out who I was. They thought I was nothing, so they treated me as nothing.” He emptied the goblet when memories of Fandral and Volstagg invaded his mind.

“Does your brother know?” Hogun asked softly.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Loki sighed, “Nor will he ever. He has other troubles on his mind, like a certain army camping outside the city.”

“Helblindi will fight,” Hogun said, sending Loki a meaningful look.

Loki swallowed heavily and tried not to think of the future, but what other choice did he have? The future was filled with blood and death, and when Loki closed his eyes, he could already envision the final battlefield in this long, gruesome war. It lay full of corpses, all dressed in green and gold.

Blinking, Loki focused on Hogun again. “Anyone who draws strength from me is a fool,” He said with a bittersweet smile, because no matter how flattering the idea was, Loki was fully aware that it also meant it would lead people to their doom.

Hogun set down his goblet and rose from his seat. “Perhaps,” He said with a shrug, “But you give them hope, and you cannot take that away from them.”

Loki had no answer to that. He watched Hogun leave, the door falling shut behind him with a definite sound that sent a shiver down Loki’s back. He stood, his empty goblet still in hand, and returned to stand before the window, watching the Allfather’s army and wondering if one of those small moving dots was Thor.

-x-x-x-

The first attack came two weeks later.

The people of Jotunheim’s capital were already surviving on rations and water was running scarce after Asgard’s soldiers had polluted the only river running underneath the city. At sundown, arrows of fire had rained down on them, burning down various houses. Fifteen people had died; three of those were children who had been sleeping in their beds. It was the start of another battle, only it was a longer one and Loki knew they stood no chance of winning.

Helblindi had ordered retaliations, of course, and poisoned arrows had flown over the city’s outer wall, but as far as they knew, there had been only five casualties on Asgard’s side.

Hogun had talked about how he represented hope to the people and how he gave them strength, and truly, Loki believed him after he’d gone out and walked through the streets, handing out blankets and extra food, but he knew how wrong they all were. They shouldn’t look up to him, shouldn’t put their faith in him, because as time passed, Loki knew he would only end up disappointing them.

If they could read his thoughts, they would stop looking up at him.

If they knew how much he thought of Thor Odinson, they would hate him.

-x-x-x-

Another week later, a riot broke loose near the castle. The people were hungry and wanted more food, but there was none. Helblindi had tried to calm them with promises everyone knew he couldn’t keep, and Loki didn’t think he’d ever heard such noise before in his life, not even on a battlefield where dying men cried and wept for their mothers. The people screamed and cursed and pulled at one another.

Loki didn’t see how it ended. He’d been ushered inside by a dozen soldiers.

His heart was still racing within his chest and his limbs shook with how fast his blood seemed to flow through his veins. The sounds of the people outside were deafening. Before him, Helblindi walked, muttering under his breath, his kingly, green robe flaunting around his ankles. His gaze was fixed on the stone floor beneath their feet, and Loki wanted to run up to him and tell him that there was nothing he could have done or said to calm everyone’s anger and fear, but somehow he didn’t think Helblindi would appreciate it, not when so many soldiers, knights and noblemen were walking with them.

Once inside the throne room, Helblindi spun around and let his green eyes scan the gathered crowd before him. They stood wide and frantic, his mind obviously racing to find answers to the madness that was unwinding within the capital. Loki wished he could calm his brother, but there was nothing he could do.

He stood a few steps away from his brother, and eventually Helblindi’s gaze settled on him. Without words, Loki encouraged him to speak. His brother hadn’t been able to calm the people of Jotunheim’s capital, but he _had_ to reassure the knights and noblemen that he was still in control, that he was still their king and that he demanded their obedience and loyalty.

“Tomorrow at dawn,” Helblindi started, pronunciating every word carefully, lacing it with significance and weight, “We open the gates and we march to meet the Allfather’s army.”

Loki all but groaned aloud. His eyes widened and his skin instantly turned cold and clammy. This was not a solution, and he willed his brother to look at him so he could tell him, without words, that this was a wrong decision, but Helblindi seemed to gaze at everyone but his little brother. Irritation flooded Loki, along with anger, because there was nothing he could do about any of this. His brother was king and if this was his decision, it was final.

“Tomorrow,” Helblindi continued, “We end this war and we will be victorious.”

Loki couldn’t stop himself. “That’s madness,” He said.

Helblindi’s sharp and hostile eyes instantly landed on him. “Excuse me?” He asked as one eyebrow rose.

It had been wrong to speak so frankly, Loki was aware of that, but what was said he couldn’t take back. Taking a step forward, towards his brother, Loki inclined his head as a sign of respect. “My king,” He started, remembering all the right ways to address a man as mighty as his brother, “Asgard’s army is twice the size of ours. Our knights and soldiers are hungry and tired. If we open the gates tomorrow–”

“Enough, brother,” Helblindi snapped, “We are a proud and strong nation and we are done cowering behind the city’s walls. We will face the Allfather’s men and we will crush them.”

“We will _die_ ,” Loki replied angrily. He couldn’t believe his brother’s naivety. He certainly couldn’t believe that Helblindi honestly thought they stood a chance against Odin’s army. “They will wipe us out.”

“I will not tolerate this,” Helblindi hissed.

Helblindi waved a hand around, and before Loki realized what was happening, he felt two pairs of hands grab his arms, intending to take him away, perhaps to a dungeon for speaking out of term against his king, but none of that was the reason why Loki felt his breath stutter within his chest. His vision flashed with images of red and golden and the feeling of Fandral’s hands on his body caused him to jerk himself free of the guards’ grasp.

“Don’t touch me!” He shrieked. He spun around and darted away from the people standing closest to him, well aware that he was nearly hyperventilating and that everyone’s eyes were trained on him as if he were a madman. Perhaps he was.

“You will have to excuse your brother, my king.” It was Hogun who stepped forward. Loki’s gaze snapped towards him, and the sight of Hogun speaking for him, defending him, caused the muscles in his body to relax – if only a little. “Prince Loki has gone through much as a prisoner of the Allfather’s son. You must forgive your brother’s reaction, for you do not know what monstrosities he was forced to live through.”

Loki begged him to shut up now.

“What are you speaking of?” Helblindi demanded to know. His narrowed eyes switched between Hogun and his brother.

“He was Thor Odinson’s spoil of war.”

The betrayal felt as sharp as a knife piercing his heart. Nausea settling in the pit of his stomach and Loki pressed the back of his hand against his lips, hoping that that would prevent him from actually throwing up. Hogun sent him an apologetic look, but Loki couldn’t stand it. He turned away from him, only to be faced with Helblindi’s eyes filled with sorrow and pity.

“Do not ever look at me that way again,” He said tightly, before quickly adding, “ _My king_.” And with that, he fled from the throne room, his heart beating wildly in his throat and his hands balled into fists by his sides. Never before had he felt so humiliated, and that was counting all the weeks he’d spent as Thor’s prisoner.

-x-x-x-

He’d hoped a bath would soothe him and drive away the tension that laced his muscles, but the longer he lay in the hot water, the more he began to think of his brother’s words. If he really did open the great gates at dawn tomorrow, ready to march out and face Odin’s army, they would all perish. Loki sunk deep into the bath, submerging himself for a few seconds while wondering what drowning felt like. Right now, it seemed like a better option than facing tomorrow’s morning.

Inhaling deeply as he resurfaced, Loki brushed his soaking wet hair back and blinked away any drops of water from his eyelashes. He’d always thought his brother would listen to his advice, but that had been ruined. Now, thanks to Hogun, he was nothing more than the king’s broken brother. They thought him weak and afraid, and even though the latter was true, he hadn’t wanted everyone else to know.

Something needed to be done. Someone had to stop the massacre that was sure to happen, and Loki knew he was the only one who might be able to pull that off. Getting out of the water, he quickly dried himself and got dressed. He’d sent away his servant hours ago, just after he’d returned from the humiliation he’d suffered in the throne room.

Once dressed, he collected a few weapons and hid them all over his body – a dagger in each boot, one near the small of his back and two in each sleeve.

It was almost midnight and the halls of the castle were mostly abandoned. Through the colored glass of the high windows, he did hear faint voices and the sound of metal being sharpened, swords scouring against whetstone. Loki quietly walked through the halls and avoided being seen despite all the activity happening outside. All those men preparing for battle were preparing for death; they just didn’t know it yet.

It happened as he crossed a small, abandoned courtyard. A voice called his name, causing Loki’s heart to stutter against his ribcage, his breath catching inside his lungs. He spun around to find Hogun approaching, a frown creasing his brow.

“Loki?” Hogun asked again. “Where are you going?”

Loki bit down on his tongue, refusing to speak a word before he’d thought long and hard about it. If he said something wrong, he could find himself being cornered by guards again. He liked Hogun and he considered him to be a friend, but after what happened in the throne room, Loki distrusted him. He wondered how Hogun felt about him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“You are my friend,” Hogun replied.

That was a no. It felt like yet another stab to his chest. Why was it that he felt more betrayed by his own friends and family than he felt hurt by Odin’s men? At least Odin’s men didn’t have two faces. Fandral was a scumbag and everyone knew it. Sif was hard and tough and she would cut off one’s balls if someone so much as looked at her wrong, and everyone knew that, too. And Thor … Thor was an asshole of a prince, caught between the loyalty to his father and trying to do what was right.

“I _am_ your friend,” Loki said after a long silence, “And I’m trying to save you. I’m trying to save all of you.” He took a step away from Hogun, and when the knight didn’t attempt to stop him, he took another step back. “Trust me,” He said, realizing that Hogun’s trust actually meant a great deal to him, because if Hogun didn’t trust him, who in the gods’ names would? Surely not Helblindi.

He turned away from Hogun and hurried across the small courtyard towards the stables where he easily found Nausikaä. The cream colored horse neighed when he approached her, and Loki couldn’t help but smile. The animal liked him. Without any preamble, Loki saddled her and quickly mounted her, hands taking hold of the reigns so tightly his knuckles turned white.

As he rode away from the courtyard, he caught Hogun’s unsure glance, but Loki didn’t have time to ponder about it. He lead the horse through the streets of the capital until he reached the giant gates that were the only thing standing in between him and Odin Allfather’s army. The guards by the gates looked tense and uneasy as their prince approached, but as soon as Loki ordered them to grant him passage out of the city, they opened the right side of the gate and stepped back.

When he left the city behind him, Loki felt his chest constrict with anxiety. There was no turning back now, he told himself. If he really wanted to save his people, he had to be strong and solid.

He reached the massive camp a few minutes later, but he wasn’t foolish enough to try and enter it. He forced Nausikaä to come to a halt, pulling at the reigns, and jumped off of her back. Guards dressed in red and golden garbs cautiously approached him, their swords raised and ready to be used, but Loki refused to be intimidated by them. He straightened his back and lifted his chin – strong and solid.

“I wish to speak to Thor Odinson, your prince,” He said with a loud and firm voice.

“You’re his whore,” A man to his left spoke.

Loki sent him a poisonous look and for one brief second, he actually considered throwing one of his daggers at the guard’s head, but that would probably only jumpstart the battle which he was actually trying to prevent.

“Speak to me like that again and I will cut out your tongue,” He threatened, and much to his delight, the man actually shrunk back a little. It seemed they hadn’t forgotten the privileged position Loki had enjoyed here – if ‘privileged’ was the appropriate word. “Now take me to your prince. _Now!_ ”

Much to his surprise, they actually did. Having left Nausikaä in the guards’ care, the ones who remained by the edge of the camp, Loki followed three other guards through the camp. He was well aware that the guard who had called him Thor’s whore wasn’t amongst them, which actually made him smile. It was good to know he instilled fear in these men, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last. He wasn’t sure how long his confidence would last either. Truth be told, it had been a really foolish decision to come to Odin’s camp all by himself. If they wanted to, they could easily kill him and he wouldn’t even be able to stop them.

He liked to believe Thor could stop them, though.

They halted in front of a familiar tent, and Loki felt relief flood his system. Thor was inside that tent.

“Leave,” Loki ordered the men, and _behold_ , they actually did. Loki’s chest was heaving with how hard and fast he was breathing, and with shaking hands, he pushed his way into the tent, the familiar surroundings actually calming him down despite the fact that he was back in hostile territory.

Thor sat at the table, various books opened before him, but as soon as Loki entered, his light blue eyes found his emerald green ones. There was a moment were nothing happened, the only sound coming from outside the tent, and then Thor jumped up and closed the distance between them, his hands carding through Loki’s still damp hair and his lips finding Loki’s.

Loki instantly melted into Thor’s touch. He parted his lips and let Thor in, moaning at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue licking into his mouth, exploring it. He pressed his body firmly against Thor’s, his hands fisting Thor’s shirt and keeping him close. He hadn’t felt this safe in days.

Eventually, their need of air became too big.

“What are you doing here?” Thor asked, his forehead pressed against Loki’s. He was breathing shallowly and his fingers were still brushing through Loki’s raven hair, smoothing it back. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

It was too difficult to think.

Loki dropped his head until it was pressed to the crook of Thor’s neck. He wasn’t even aware of what he was doing until his lips were against the side of Thor’s neck, kissing him there, and reveling at the familiar smell of metal and grass that was entirely _Thor_. By the gods, he’d missed him – which was a thought he chastised himself for. He pulled away from Thor, only to find those light blue eyes watching him with nothing but curiosity.

Not in a hundred years would he have thought that he’d prefer Thor’s gaze on his face before the ones of his friends and family, who only looked at him with sorrow and pity. “I had to talk to you,” He said eventually, well aware that whatever strength had laced his voice before was now gone, “And I had to see you.”

The smile that filled Thor’s face was warm and genuine, and Loki reached up to touch the lines that defined Thor’s features. “By the Norns, I’ve missed you,” Thor said, his voice deep and distinct. He leaned down and kissed Loki again, softer this time, gently.

Loki felt Thor’s hands travel down his arms until they rested on his hips. It caused a shiver to run down Loki’s back, a pleasant one that filled him with warmth. Loki placed his hands to Thor’s chest, feeling Thor’s heartbeat beneath the tips of his fingers, fast and strong. He caused that. _He_ was the reason why Thor’s cheek looked flustered, why his muscles felt tense beneath his touch, why there was a growing hardness pressing against his thigh.

No matter how much he wanted to let his hands explore the rest of Thor’s body, having missed his warmth, he couldn’t. Loki inhaled sharply, hoping it would clear his head, and looked up at Thor from underneath dark eyelashes. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t … desperate,” There, he’d said it, “Tomorrow, the gates of the capital will open and Jotunheim’s army will march out to clash with Asgard’s. My people will perish.”

Thor pressed his lips firmly together.

“Help me save them,” Loki said in anguish, “Tomorrow, thousands will die, but you can still _save_ them.”

Thor shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s pointless, Loki,” He said gloomily, “Say I do depose my father, say I do take the throne and become king, that doesn’t mean Jotunheim’s new king will agree to sit around a table and negotiate peace with me. I was there when king Laufey was murdered. Why would his son want to speak to me?”

“I can persuade him,” Loki argued, “I can talk to him and–”

“Talk to him?” Thor echoed tightly. He pulled away from Loki, his hands falling away from his hips. “Persuade him?”

Loki hadn’t realized his mistake, and now it was too late to undo it. He bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. He watched Thor’s blue eyes narrow and become guarded, his body physically recoiling from him, and it hurt him more than he thought possible.

“Why would king Helblindi be persuaded by you?” Thor took a step back. The sharpness to his voice cut through Loki. “Who are you?”

Loki lowered his gaze and exhaled slowly. What was the point in lying? If Thor were to know the truth, would he capture him and bring him to his father? Would he throw him before the wolves to devour him? Loki doubted it – or so he wanted and needed to believe.

“I am Loki Laufeyson,” He started while slowly looking back up, meeting those wide, shocked eyes, “Second son of king Laufey and brother of king Helblindi.”

Thor looked like he was about to be sick, which Loki found unwarranted.

“I–” Thor began, only for his other words to be swallowed away. Blood drained from his face and his jaw locked together. “You–”

“Yes,” Loki said, aggravated and annoyed, “I am a prince like you. Is that what you want to say?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thor asked, accusation in his voice.

“Why on the gods’ green earth would I have told you who I really am?” Loki demanded in return. He crossed his arms before his chest and embraced the anger that tightened his muscles. This wasn’t how he had imagined this conversation to go, but it was Thor’s hypocrisy that was to blame. “So you could dangle me in front of your father as a price? So you could use me against my father and brother?”

Thor closed his eyes and hid his face behind his hands, a gesture Loki hadn’t expected, nor did he know what it meant. “I wouldn’t have …” Thor didn’t finish that sentence, probably because he knew it was a blatant lie. Of course Thor would have used him like that if he’d known the truth since the start.

“Thor,” Loki said, demanding the man’s full attention and getting it. He continued speaking once Thor lowered his gaze and hesitantly met Loki’s emerald green eyes. “I was rather your whore than your father’s pawn in the war.”

That seemed to break something inside of Thor, which was good, because it broke something inside of Loki, too. It made him realize how broken he really was and it made him realize how warranted those looks from the knights and noblemen had been inside the throne room.

Thor closed the distance between them again and folded his arms around Loki’s waist, his lips brushing against Loki’s. His eyes were closed and his features were lined with regret and heartache.

“You were never my whore,” He said, his warm breath ghosting over Loki’s face, “You were far too stubborn for that.”

“Aren’t you a romantic soul,” Loki chipped back, though he rested his head against Thor’s shoulder and refused to let him go a second time. “I know you can’t depose your father,” He sighed regretfully, “I understand.” How hard it was, he really did understand. “I’m still glad I came, though.”

“I am glad you came, too,” Thor said, “But you should go now, before my father learns of your presence. Whether he knows you are Jotunheim’s prince or not, he _will_ have your head if he finds you here.”

Loki smiled sadly at that. “Until tomorrow then,” He sighed, “When we meet on the battlefield.”

Thor nodded once. “Until tomorrow.”


	11. Chapter 11

Arriving back in his chambers, Loki felt exhausted, every muscle in his body aching. Slowly, he shrugged of his thick, emerald green coat and hung it over the edge of a chair by the burning fireplace, his eyes down, his mind not yet within the castle walls. It was beyond the city’s walls, inside Asgard’s camp and inside a certain tent. Just the memory of Thor’s lips on his had him raise a hand to brush the soft pad of his thumb against his lower lip, as if he could somehow mimic the feeling.

“Where have you been?”

His heart stopping, actually _stopping_ – at least, that was how it felt like – Loki spun around to face the origin of the voice. Helblindi stood by the window, most of his body shielded by dark shadows. He should feel relieved that it was only his brother, but at the same time, it was also his king waiting for him in the darkness. This could not be good.

Haltingly, Loki took a step forward, towards his brother, only to stop when he spotted the distrustful look in his eyes. Loki inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “You should be resting,” He said, his voice breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air. He was unsure what he was supposed to do with his hands. “Tomorrow will be a long and tiresome day.”

“ _Where_ have you been?” Helblindi asked again.

Loki swallowed heavily. He was sure his brother could hear the frantic beating of his heart. But as startled as he felt, the presence of his brother unexpected, there was a surge of anger coursing through his veins, too. There was only one explanation as to why Helblindi was here; Hogun must have told him about his little nightly trip. It seemed he had no friends left in the capital, or at least no friends who he could trust or who trusted him.

“You know where I’ve been,” He settled on as he crossed his arms before his chest. It was a defensive stance, he was well aware of that, but he couldn’t help it. Helblindi was forcing his hand and Loki sure as hell wouldn’t regret his decision to go see Thor. “I had to do something, brother,” He continued when Helblindi stayed quiet, “I couldn’t just stand by and watch you lead our people to their deaths.”

Those might have been the wrong words to use. Helblindi’s distrust transformed into disbelief, shock and, most of all, anger, his nostrils flaring with it. Still, when he spoke, he sounded calm – like silence before a storm. “I find it incredibly funny that you accuse me of leading our people to their doom while you have only just returned from the enemy camp,” He said. His emerald green eyes, the only detail of their features they had in common, narrowed. “Did you tell the Allfather or his son our plans? Did you tell them we open the gates tomorrow at dawn?”

“Does it matter?” Loki asked in return. “Whether or not they know the gates will open, it changes nothing.”

“Why?” Helblindi asked with sudden despair in his voice. That wasn’t what got to Loki, however. No, the broken look in his brother’s eyes was, the betrayal and pain. Helblindi lowered his head and buried his face in his hands for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. He looked nothing like the strong and proud king he’d been earlier.

“Thor isn’t like his father,” Loki tried. He was well aware that his words would fall on deaf ears, because why would Helblindi believe him? Why would anyone ever believe him after he spent all those weeks as a prisoner of the enemy? By the gods, he didn’t even blame them for their distrust, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. “Thor would try for peace. He doesn’t want war, nor does he want Jotunheim destroyed. If you were to agree to–”

“Careful,” Helblindi hissed, “You speak treasonous words, brother.” He lifted one finger as if he were warning a small child. Perhaps that was precisely what it felt like to Helblindi, Loki never having grown up in his eyes, always having stayed that six years old boy who’d asked, with wonder in his eyes, how Helblindi managed to get in and out of the castle’s kitchen without being caught to steal some dessert the cook was preparing.

Loki pinched the bridge of his noise, forcing himself to stay calm despite all the frustration clouding his mind. This was his brother he was talking to and if there was one last person on this earth who would hear him, who would listen to his voice, it had to be Helblindi – or so he told himself. If he didn’t have Helblindi, who did he have left?

“You would deny the opportunity to end this war without bloodshed?” Loki tried. He dropped his hands to his sides and threw a desperate look into Helblindi’s direction, begging him to hear him out. “You and Thor Odinson could be allies and make our realms–”

“This _is_ treason,” Helblindi said, spitting out the words, “By the gods, Hogun told me what happened to you, but I never knew they broke your mind, too.”

Something tight and sharp coiled inside his chest, and Loki realized too late that he couldn’t control it. He strode forward and shoved a fist against Helblindi’s shoulder, pushing him back until he hit the window behind him. “Do not speak of things you know nothing about,” He shouted, his eyes flashing, “You know _nothing_ about what I have suffered at the hands of those Asgardians, but you can be damn sure that if I suffered by Thor’s hand, I wouldn’t be standing here and asking you to form an alliance with him.”

Helblindi stared at him, lips parted in shock. “I don’t know you anymore,” He said after a short silence that was only broken by Loki’s erratic breathing. He pressed his back against the glass. “I look at you and I do not see my little brother anymore. I see a man willing to defend Thor Odinson, leader of an army that caused nothing but destruction to our land. They are evil, Loki. They burn our villages and destroy our crops. They murder our men and rape our women. They–”

“And we are innocent?” Loki asked, his voice high and sharp. He sounded unstable to his own ears, so he couldn’t begin to image what Helblindi was hearing – and seeing – right now. He stepped back and began pacing the floor. “I spoke to a woman who was held captive and raped by soldiers of Jotunheim. She told me how her friends and family were slaughtered like pigs.”

“You lie,” Helblindi said.

“Children were murdered,” Loki said softly now, coming to a halt and looking his brother in the eye, “Young women were held down and used as objects. I know what that’s like.” At that, Helblindi’s gaze snapped away from him, and much to Loki’s surprise, there were tears in his eyes. “Do you really think I would speak good of Thor Odinson if he were the one who did that to me?” He shook his head and sighed, a headache coming on. “There is no good or evil in this war, brother. I’m starting to think there’s just evil.”

“It pains me to hear you talk like that,” Helblindi said with a strained voice, “I wish I could have protected you. I wish I had known you were alive, because I would have come for you. I would have torn my way through the Allfather’s camp to find you.”

Loki smiled sadly.

Then – “Guards!”

Eyes widening and breath catching inside his lungs, Loki spun around and watched the doors of his chambers swing open, four guards entering at their king’s call. It was hard to make sense of what was happening, and Loki found himself turning back to his brother, but he was too shocked to utter a single world, not even when he felt two pairs of strong hands fold around his upper arms.

“Take him to the dungeons,” Helblindi ordered the guards, “Treat him with respect, he is the prince of Jotunheim and my brother.”

“Helblindi, don’t,” Loki gasped. He wasn’t sure why there wasn’t any anger towards his brother or hostility towards the guards flooding his system. He didn’t know why he wasn’t struggling and trying to rip his arms free. All that he could do was stare into his brother’s eyes and beg him not to do this. “ _Please_ ,” He breathed.

“It’s for your own good,” Helblindi said, turning away from him and staring out of the window and into the dark night.

That was all Helblindi said before Loki was dragged out of his own chambers.

-x-x-x-

It started with a distant rumbling.

Loki let his head fall back against the cold, wet tiles of the cell he’d been thrown in. A shudder ran down his back, knowing it had started. Loki pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Outside, the rumbling grew louder and louder until it became filled with voices and screams while inside the cells, it stayed eerily quiet. Loki didn’t know how many other prisoners there were down here with him, but it didn’t matter for as long as they kept silent.

The walls of the castle trembled, which was Loki’s cue to get up and move towards the small window high up by the ceiling. He had to stand up on his toes and hoist himself up a bit in order to catch a glimpse of the city around him. The first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, but it was fire that illuminated the sky. The smell of blood and death already filled the air. His people were out there, fighting and dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Some of his fellow prisoners were getting restless. Loki turned away from the window and pressed his back against the wall. It was no secret Jotunheim had a few Asgardians warriors locked away down here, keeping them alive should ever the need for an exchange arrive. Too bad his brother had never known he was alive to actually try such an exchange. He doubted it would have even worked. And now those captives felt their freedom slowly creeping closer as the screams outside grew louder. They rattled the metal bars keeping them inside the cells and called for friends to come and free them.

Loki nervously licked his lips as a loud explosive sound echoed through the castle’s walls. Dust whirled down from the ceiling when a second explosion sounded close by. The sun was shining through thick clouds outside now, filling the cells with light, but Loki stayed close to the walls, hoping the few shadows would conceal him, because as the shouts of men drew closer, he recognized them to be Asgardian.

Three men with red cloaks ran past his cell, Loki’s heart momentarily fluttering within his chest. Someone ordered the warriors to free as many Asgardians as they could find and kill all the Jotuns present. Loki balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes for a second, praying to all the gods out there that he would be left alone in his cell. And by the gods, he cursed his brother for locking him in here, all alone and basically defenseless against the dozen Asgardians streaming into the cells. He cursed Helblindi’s arrogance for even thinking they could take on the Allfather’s army and defeat them beyond the city’s walls.

“Well, well, well,” A voice said.

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and nausea settled in the pit of his stomach when he locked gazes with the last person on this earth he wanted to see; Fandral. The man’s hands were curled around the metal bars separating them, his knuckles having turned white with how tightly he was gripping them, as if he could tear them apart with his bare hands. Loki shifted against the wall, every inch of his body screaming at him to run, only there was nowhere to run to. He was trapped.

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” Fandral chuckled. He stepped back and raised the sword he carried, bringing it down hard and fast on the lock. It shattered beneath the steel blade. Loki flinched at the sound, the full weight of its meaning instantly settling on his shoulders, pushing him down and making him feel heavy. “Thor isn’t here to save you this time, _Loki_ ,” He said, turning his name on his tongue like it was a poisonous word he needed out of his mouth as quickly as possible.

Loki’s fingers itched to take hold of a weapon, but his muscles were locked in place as he watched Fandral stroll into the cell, casually and carefree like there wasn’t an all-deciding battle happening outside. Loki pressed his lips together, forbidding himself from speaking or making a sound. He refused to give Fandral that kind of pleasure. Instead, he waited. Fandral was a man driven by instinctual and basic needs as well as sentiments. His own pride and arrogance would be his undoing. All Loki had to do was wait for the right opportunity to arise.

“Not so talkative now, huh?” Fandral asked, his head cocking sideways.

Beyond the cells, men ran by, all eager to join the battle outside, to fight for their king – whichever king that was – all except for Fandral whose attention was entirely focused on Loki. His blue eyes stood wide and wild, and as Loki let his gaze wander down Fandral’s body, taking in the broadness of his shoulders and the strength of his arms, he couldn’t help but settle on the noticeable bulge to Fandral’s trousers. By the gods, he was a sick son of a bitch.

But he let the man come closer, no matter how nauseating it was. When he felt the warmth radiate from Fandral’s body, engulfing him and making it hard for him to breathe, Loki looked away from him and wished he could disappear into the wall behind him. Fandral stood before him, a dirty grin on his face and a lively, sickening look in his eyes. He lifted a hand and let the tips of his fingers trail down Loki’s cheek, causing Loki to tense beneath his touch.

“Do you remember what I told you last time we spoke?” Loki asked suddenly, turning to look at Fandral, his emerald green eyes easily locking with his, coldly and defiantly.

Fandral hummed and lifted his chin in order to look down at Loki. It made Loki want to extract his revenge here and _now_ , but where would the fun be in that? No, Loki remained still before Fandral, baring his touch on his face – for now. “I remember all the times we’ve … _spoken_ ,” He said. He took that final step and pressed his body flush against Loki’s – Loki who actually thought he was going to be sick when he felt Fandral’s hardness press against his thigh.

“Do you know who I am?” He forced out, his voice sounding thick and gravelly. “Did Thor tell you?”

Fandral’s eyes narrowed suddenly. His fingers curled around Loki’s throat, a not so subtle reminder of what he could and wanted to do to him, and Loki let him. He even let the man press himself further up against his body, seeking friction as if he were a boy desperately seeking release. “Do enlighten me,” Fandral drawled.

Loki managed a wicked grin. “I’m Laufey’s second son,” He said, enjoying the way it caused Fandral’s body to stiffen, his fingers around his throat slipping. The man looked unsure, as if he were trying to find the lie in Loki’s words. “Do you know what that means when I get locked away here in the dungeons?”

Fandral gripped his throat so tightly suddenly that Loki sucked in a deep breath on instinct, his eyes watering, but he refused to be deterred, to be frightened, because no matter their positions, _he_ was the one who had all the control, even when he couldn’t breathe properly. “Guards tossed me in here–” He managed to say, his lungs burning with the sudden lack of oxygen, “–without checking for weapons on my body.”

He lowered an arm and let one of the daggers hidden up his sleeve fall into his hand, swiftly twisting it through the air and planting it deep into Fandral’s eye. The man stumbled back, screaming and reaching the hilt of the dagger, quickly pulling it out. Blood gushed down his face, Fandral chocking on it as it filled his mouth. Loki took hold of another dagger and, without blinking, without mercy or remorse, slid the sharp blade of it against Fandral’s throat. More blood spurted from his aorta, most of it landing on Loki who quickly darted aside, watching with big eyes as Fandral fell to his knees, hands clasping around his neck.

And then he fell sideways, motionless, blood pooling underneath his body.

Loki’s chest heaved up and down with how hard and fast he was breathing. His heart beat frantically against his ribcage. His hand, trembling now, held onto the dagger so tightly that he felt his nails sink deep into his own skin. He wiped away the blood that had landed on his lips with the back of his other hand, unable to tear his gaze away from Fandral lying at his feet, dead, one blue eye staring out in front of him, empty and cold.

The smell of his blood made Loki retch in the corner of the cell.

-x-x-x-

It was hell. When Loki reached the court yard, he had to stop for a second so he could push away the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Screams filled the air, as did smoke and the smell of blood. The capital was being burned down to the ground, its people crushed and slaughtered like pigs, just like he thought it would be. Asgard’s army was too strong and they were severely outnumbered. They never stood a chance.

He had to find his brother.

Loki ran across the court yard and fought off half a dozen warriors trying to stop him. He didn’t care where he stabbed them or cut them using Fandral’s sword, whether he wounded them, mortally or not, or killed them. He had only one goal, one objective; he needed to find Helblindi. He couldn’t lose him like he’d lost his father, the mere idea causing his chest to constrict, breathing becoming impossible.

Outside of the court yard, he spotted Hogun fighting off three Asgardians. Blood coated his armor and a large, gaping wound covered his cheek, but it didn’t slow him down. It didn’t even seem to pain him.

“Hogun!” He screamed.

Hogun’s eyes instantly settled on him. Loki rushed towards him and planted his sword deep into the back of one of the warriors. Hogun took care of the other two. Then he stepped up to his Prince and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. A faint and bloody smile filled the lower half of his face.

“I am sorry, Loki,” He said, his voice barely drifting over all the noise around them, “I should have trusted you.”

“You should have,” Loki replied, but there was no heat to his words. It wouldn’t matter. It was too late to change any of it now. He hadn’t been able to prevent the battle from starting, but maybe, just maybe, he could still end it. If only a few stubborn idiots would listen to him.

“Where is my brother?” He asked. “And where is Thor Odinson?”

“I last saw them by the church,” Hogun said. He pointed to the west.

Loki didn’t hesitate. He started running, zigzagging through fighting warriors and jumping over hundreds of bodies filling the streets. Hogun followed him close behind, having his back, like he always did. An Asgardian stormed towards him, and Loki had to jump aside in order not to get stabbed. Sharp pain erupted from his upper arm, however, and blood poured from a deep cut. Cursing loudly, Loki twisted the sword in his hand and sliced the blade across the warrior’s throat. Blood gushed from the wound, some of it landing on Loki who quickly stepped back, gagging.

“Are you okay?” Hogun darted to his side and pressed a hand to the wound on his arm.

“Asks the man who’s lost a part of his face,” Loki noted, his eyes darting to the gaping wound on Hogun’s cheek. He pushed his friend’s hand aside, studied the cut for a second, and then shrugged. “It’s nothing that won’t heal. Come on.”

It took them half an hour to reach the church, and by the time they got there, Loki had lost count of how many men he’d slaughtered and he couldn’t distinguish between the cuts on his body anymore. The sharpness of the pain had made way for a dull ache, though, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He caught sight of Sif first. She looked fierce as she wielded her sword like it was an extension of her arm. It cut through flesh and bone with ease. Blood had splattered onto her face and her hands were soaked in redness, but she didn’t seem to have a single wound on her. Warriors feared her, as they should, because she looked like a fury, raging down violence on anyone who crossed her.

The fact that she was here meant that Thor couldn’t be far away. Sif would never leave her Prince’s side in a battle like this. Loki’s heart beat wildly against his ribcage as he let his gaze slip around the many faces. And then he saw him. His heart skipped a beat, his hands faltered, and his grip on his sword momentarily slipped. Thor’s blond hair was pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck. His golden skin was dirtied with blood and mud and sweat. His clothes were torn, and somehow he looked bigger than everyone else.

Loki found himself instantly pulled towards him. He ran forward and screamed his name, demanding his attention – and getting it.

Bright blue eyes settled on him and widened in disbelief and concern. As soon as he reached him, Hogun having cleared a path for him, Loki flung an arm around Thor’s neck and pulled him down, their lips crashing together. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been, hadn’t wanted to entertain the idea of Thor lying dead somewhere.

But he wasn’t dead. Relief crashed into his body.

“Stop this madness,” He said a moment later, “Please.”

Thor looked around, his gaze settling on the insanity that transpired around them. Corpses piled up everywhere and wounded warriors wailed for help. Inside the houses, civilians were crying and screaming. Fire consumed everything. Thor’s face contorted with disgust and despair and hopelessness.

“You have the power,” Loki pressed on.

Hogun and Sif were battling warriors who tried to get near them, wanting the glory of killing a Prince for their King’s advantage. It didn’t matter whether they were Asgardian or Jotun. And Loki paid them no mind. He trusted Hogun to keep him safe for a few minutes. Even more, he trusted Thor to keep him safe.

“This is your father’s madness, but you don’t have to carry it out. You can make peace. You can–”

“Loki!” Hogun screamed suddenly.

He spun around and away from Thor and watched five warriors storm at him. With swift motions, he fended them off, blocking their attempts to pierce his body with their weapons. Beside him, Thor attacked another three soldiers. He growled loudly, animalistically, and as he did, the soldiers moved away, fear in their eyes. Sif and Hogun stabbed them through the heart. The sound of metal clashing against metal hurt his ears, but Loki blocked it out. He focused on nothing but the feeling of the sword in his hand. He wielded it lightly and sliced his attackers skin like butter. He didn’t realize he and Thor were drifting apart.

“Watch out!” Sif shouted at her future king.

Loki’s eyes snapped towards Thor a few feet away. A man had snuck up behind him, but Thor spun around just in time to block the attack. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it around, the sound of bone breaking joining the warrior’s cries of agony. Thor pushed him back and shoved his sword through the man’s chest. His eyes widened for a split second before all life vanished from them. He fell to the ground, dead. Like so many others.

Loki thanked the heavens that Thor was alright, and without thinking, he ran forward, needing to close the distance between them again. He wanted to be close to Thor, wanting to protect him and talk to him and force him to see reason. They could stop this battle. They could stop this war. Thor just needed to find the strength and courage to stand up against his father.

He didn’t see the Asgardian soldier on his left.

Thor’s gaze locked onto him and he screamed his name.

Loki understood too late. He looked aside just when a sword split his skin, the metal blade moving into his body at his back and exiting it again near his stomach. Loki gasped and froze. That was all he could do. He wanted to scream in agony, definitely, and cry, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs to do so. There wasn’t any strength left in his body either. He couldn’t lift his sword to fend off the soldier, but Hogun was there and he snapped the man’s neck.

Everything grew numb and peculiarly cold. Loki fell to his knees, the sword slipping from his hand, no longer having the strength to hold it. The noise around him died away and he was grateful. The silence soothed him while burning pain consumed his body.

Blue eyes shifted before him, and Loki had to blink a few times before they came into focus. Thor was kneeling before him, his large, warm, and bloodied hands resting against the sides of his face, holding it.

“Look at me, Loki,” He said, panic lacing his words, “Breathe. You’ll be okay.”

He didn’t believe him, but he smiled anyway. He thought it would hurt more, getting stabbed, but the pain was already fading, leaving nothing but a dull ache spreading through his veins. Nausea settled in the pit of his stomach. Loki coughed and tasted blood on his tongue.

“Tell my brother …” He managed to say, but the rest of his words were lost when more blood filled his mouth.

He spit it out, or at least he tried to, but he didn’t have enough strength left. It escaped from him like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. He fell forward, but Thor was there to catch him. His strong arms engulfed him and protected him from the madness surrounding him. But he felt safe and at peace. He no longer felt any pain, and he wondered if this was how his father had felt during his final moments.

“Thor,” He breathed.

Thor gently placed his head in his lap, and Loki reached up and let the tips of his fingers slip down the side of Thor’s face. This was a good way to die; in a battle defending his land, in Thor’s arms. He wished he could see Helblindi again, wished he could tell him that he loved him, but that he needed to stop being so damn prideful. He wished he could tell Thor that he loved him despite everything that happened, despite everything Thor had put him through, but he didn’t have enough breath left.

Darkness consumed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is; the final chapter! I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Thank you for sticking to the end of this story! I love you, guys!

The sheets felt soft beneath his hands. Loki curled his fingers around them and tried to discover where he was without opening his eyes. His eyelids felt too heavy and when he tried to shift, pain shot through his back and stomach. With his lips pressed tightly together – he wasn’t sure why he refused to make a sound – Loki blinked open his eyes and let the room come into focus.

It took a while, but eventually the wooden beams of the ceiling above him came into focus. Orange shadows played across the walls and the emerald green curtains had been drawn shut, keeping out silver moonlight that peeked through small gaps of the fabric. He was in his own bedchambers, a thought that shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did. Loki blinked away the haze.

Footsteps sounded to his left. Loki glanced aside and a smile filled his features when he recognized his brother’s face. Helblindi looked tired, but relieved and happy, too. He moved to sit on the edge of Loki’s bed and placed a warm hand on top of his little brother’s. His emerald green eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I thought I’d lost you,” He said, “Again.”

“I’m far too stubborn to die,” Loki forced out. His throat felt dry and his voice sounded hoarse, but that was nothing compared to the constant ache thrumming through his body. Still, he was alive, so he couldn’t complain. “Besides,” He added with a minor smirk, because that was all he managed at the moment, “You need someone smart at your side.”

“Ah, yes,” Helblindi sighed. He lowered his gaze and stared at their touching hands.

“How is the war?” Loki asked. He had to know. Last he remembered, bodies littered the streets. There had been so many screams of agony and terror. Fire had burned everywhere. Truth be told, Loki was afraid of what sight would meet him should he get out of bed and throw open the curtains, so perhaps it was for the best that moving was entirely out of the question.

“Over,” Helblindi said.

It wasn’t the answer he had expected and somehow he couldn’t grasp it properly. He let the word echo through his mind, but it seemed to have no meaning. Loki swallowed heavily and stared his brother, wanting him to elaborate, because honestly, confusion swirled inside his head like a thick fog concealing everything.

“After you went down, Thor Odinson commanded his men to lay down their weapons, to end the fight,” Helblindi started. His brow was creased and a sort of haziness ghosted over his features. He became lost in his memories, and Loki didn’t even know how old those memories were. How long had he been unconscious for? Days? Weeks? “There was chaos, of course, and no one knew what was happening. I wanted to give the order to slaughter all the Asgardians, but then came the whispers. ‘ _The Prince has fallen_.’ I didn’t know whether they spoke of you or of Thor Odinson, so I came looking for you …” Helblindi sighed and when he closed his eyes, tears slipped down his cheeks. “He held you closely and I thought that that was it that I’d lost my brother, but Thor said there was still hope. You were still breathing.”

Loki’s gaze shifted towards Helblindi’s hand around his own. Helblindi held on tightly, almost crushing his knuckles, but Loki said nothing. He saw fear in Helblindi’s features as he remembered, fear along with faded hysteria and horror.

“The fighting had stopped and The Allfather went … berserk.” Helblindi sighed and withdrew his hand. He folded his hands in his lap, his fingers twitching nervously. He didn’t look at Loki as he recalled the events, probably couldn’t, and Loki didn’t blame him. It was hard talking about something emotional. “He screamed at his men to pick up their weapons again, but no one did on either side. Hogun and I brought you here and then we could only wait as healers worked day and night to save you.”

Loki didn’t care about that part of the story. He knew how close he’d been to death. He’d felt it. What he didn’t know was what had happened to Thor afterwards. _That_ was what mattered. “But what happened to The Allfather and to Thor?” He asked. At the thought of Thor being locked away somewhere, his heart began to slam against his ribcage and breathing became even harder.

“Calm down, brother,” Helblindi assured him, sensing the panic that probably radiated off of Loki like heat, “Thor Odinson took command of the army and had them retreat so his men could recover and those injured could be attended to. Odin Allfather is currently locked in one of our cells.”

Loki’s lips parted in shock. It was a lot of information to process and a part of him refused to believe his brother. If Odin had been locked away and Thor had taken command, then that could only mean one thing.

“Thor is king?” He asked breathlessly – because he was still hardly breathing, though he really should calm down. The pain in his back and stomach flared up, making him groan. Nausea settled in the pit of his stomach. He thought he might actually throw up, but there was nothing _to_ throw up.

Helblindi nodded. “Yes,” He said, “He aspired for peace, so Asgard’s Council allowed him to depose his father. I don’t have to explain to you how enraged The Allfather was which is why I generously offered King Thor to keep him in the dungeons for the time being. For his own safety, of course.”

“You’re not going to try anything, are you?” Loki couldn’t help but ask. They had come too far for Helblindi to throw everything away out of vengeance.

“I’m not going to have him killed, no,” Helblindi said, though he obviously didn’t like that answer. Loki couldn’t blame him. If there wouldn’t be any consequences, he would gladly plant a knife in The Allfather’s heart himself. But there _would_ be consequences and they would be dire. “It wouldn’t bring our father back, would it?”

Loki sighed sorrowfully. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting all the information sink in. Thor was king – a concept he still couldn’t grasp. But then, Thor had changed. He wasn’t that arrogant, brass Crowned Prince anymore. He’d grown a conscience and he’d become … honorable, wise even, though only on certain days. Just thinking about Thor made him smile. He was alive and safe and _king_ and he’d ended the war.

“He is here,” Helblindi said after a long, but comfortable silence.

Momentarily confused, Loki glanced at his brother and waited for an elaboration.

“Peace demands a lot of talking,” Helblindi said with a hint of smile around the corners of his lips, “King Thor and his advisors were appointed chambers so they wouldn’t have to travel through the city every day. And somehow Thor always, mysteriously, forgets the way towards the throne chamber and ends up here. Truly I’m starting to suspect he’s intentionally delaying the peace-negotiations just so he could be here when you wake. And now you’ve woken.”

Loki bit down on his lip to prevent himself from grinning like a fool. He shouldn’t be so enthused that Thor came to see him as much as he could. After all, Thor had more important affairs to focus on, as did his brother. They should think of their kingdoms first.

Sighing heavily, Loki placed a hand onto his chest to feel the beating of his heart calming down. Only his fingers felt something hard underneath the tunic he wore. Puzzled, Loki reached up to feel a cord around his neck. He didn’t remember ever wearing a necklace, so with slightly narrowed and confused eyes, he reached into his tunic to reveal a small, wooden pendant shaped like a hammer.

“King Thor said it would help keep you safe,” Helblindi explained without having been asked anything, “Apparently, a female warrior made it for him, I forgot her name, and he told me it had kept him safe during the battle. He wished for you to have it and I couldn’t deny him, because …”

Loki stared at the pendant and brushed a finger down the wood. It was smooth, not one imperfection noticeable. He had watched Sif create this, had sat beside her for hours as she’d carved into wood, but he’d never known that this was what she’d been making. It had been a token for Thor and Thor had passed it to him, no doubt with Sif’s authorization, and the thought was remarkably … touching.

“Do you love him?”

At the question, Loki’s gaze snapped away from the pendant and towards his brother. For a moment, he feared he would find disapproval in Helblindi’s eyes, but they merely revealed openness and acceptance. Loki slipped the necklace back underneath his tunic and laid his hand on top of it. The idea of the hammer-shaped pendant close to his heart soothed him, no matter how ridiculous the notion was.

“I think I might,” Loki said softly.

Helblindi nodded thoughtfully. “Leave it to the King’s little brother to fall in love with an Asgardian,” He said, but amusement rang in his voice. He smiled and for the first time since Loki had opened his eyes, he didn’t look as tired anymore.

“At least I aimed high,” Loki joked.

Helblindi snorted before he stood. Loki tracked his movements while he couldn’t help but think that this was what he’d missed most during the past few months. He’d missed talking to his brother and bantering with him. He’d forgotten how well they’d gotten along before he’d returned from captivity and everything went to hell. But it seemed Helblindi trusted him again which was something Loki hadn’t thought he craved so much.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Helblindi said, “You look a little pale.”

Loki hummed and curled his fingers around the pendant through his tunic. “I do feel exhausted,” He said. And he was in pain. It felt like someone was still driving a sword through his body, again and again, but he didn’t tell his brother that. Helblindi had enough to worry about. “I will see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Helblindi promised. He brushed a hand through Loki’s raven hair, brushing it out of his eyes, before he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. It was an act of affection he hadn’t displayed since they were children, but Loki didn’t mind. He simply smiled at his big brother and felt grateful. “I shall inform King Thor that you’re awake. I’m sure he will want to come and see you, too.”

“Thank you, brother,” Loki said.

He fell asleep not long after.

-x-x-x-

“Thank you, Hogun,” Loki said. He barely had any breath left in his lungs and pain radiated through his body, all pooling near his stomach and back, but he was sitting upwards in bed and that was all that mattered to him. Lying down for so long caused his muscles to ache and, really, he couldn’t bear much more than he already was. The healers gave him medicine, but it did nothing except for clouding his mind with a thick fog.

Hogun poured fresh, clear water into a metal cup and handed it to his prince. “Here,” He said with his typical heavy accent, “You must drink. Water will help you heal faster.”

Loki accepted the goblet with a smile. His hands were shaking ever so slightly from the overexertion. Hogun noticed, but he said nothing, for which Loki was grateful. He had begged his friend to help him sit up – Helblindi had refused to lend a hand – and he wouldn’t let him regret it now. So Loki continued to smile and emptied the cup. He instantly felt better.

There was a soft knock to his door.

Loki’s heart skipped a beat and his grip on the cup tightened. He turned his gaze towards Hogun expectantly – Hogun who threw him a knowing look and moved towards the door. He opened it, and Loki’s breath became caught within his chest. Last time he had seen Thor; his skin had been covered with a layer of sweat, dirt and blood. His hair had been stained red and various wounds had covered his body. Now he looked … Loki had no words for it.

Thor took two steps forward, into the room, and folded his hands before his stomach, the gesture small, but enough to betray his nervousness. His bright blue eyes flitted across Loki’s body, taking in every small detail, until he finally locked gazes with him. Thor’s blond hair had been pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck. His beard was neatly trimmed and his red and golden outfit embraced his body, accentuating his broad shoulders, muscled arms and sharply lined sides.

“I shall give you privacy,” Hogun said.

The door closed behind him with a loud click.

“Look at you,” Loki said, smiling. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say, if he had to say anything at all. “ _King_ Thor.”

Thor came to sit on the edge of his bed – much like Helblindi had done last night – and Loki instantly reached out to trace a thin red line which ran from Thor’s ear down to his neck. It was a nearly healed battle wound and Loki wondered how many more covered his skin. Thor’s fingers brushed down Loki’s hand before folding around his wrist, holding it. His blue eyes closed and he released a heavy sigh.

“You ended the war,” He said after a short silence. He dropped his hand away from Thor’s face, placing it in his lap with Thor’s fingers remaining around his wrist. They were a constant, comforting presence. Loki focused his gaze on the warm touch.

A hand brushed through his raven hair and when Loki looked up, Thor closed the distance between them. Thor’s lips were rough against his, but Loki didn’t mind. He only wanted more. He fisted the collar of Thor’s tunic and pulled him even closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across the seam of Thor’s lower lip. Thor moaned and parted his lips, allowing Loki entrance, but he had to pull back, the need for air already burning his lungs. He pressed a hand to his bandaged stomach and exhaled slowly.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked with his voice laced with concerned.

Loki nodded. At this point, he doubted his voice worked properly anyway.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know,” Thor said. His gaze shifted from Loki’s eyes towards their intertwined hands. Loki’s hands no longer shook. “But that doesn’t mean you had to almost die to get your point across.”

Loki huffed out a soft laugh – that was all he could manage. Laughing hurt too much. “I had to get your attention somehow,” He joked, “You and Helblindi were too stubborn to listen to me.”

“Well, there’s peace now,” Thor said. He looked up at Loki from underneath dark eyelashes. “And the negations have nearly finished. If all goes well, my men and I can return to Asgard in a week’s time.” He paused and swallowed heavily. Loki would have expected Thor to be pleased about returning home, but instead he looked forlorn.

Thor shuffled a little closer and his hold on Loki’s hands tightened.

“Will you come with me?”

He should have expected the question. The longing look in Thor’s eyes caused his heart to skip a beat, and while Loki wanting nothing more than to feel Thor’s arms around him, holding him closely and keeping him safe, the reality of the situation was that the war was over and that they each had duties to perform.

“You need a queen,” He sighed regretfully, and as much as it pained him, they couldn’t afford to distract each other, “And an heir. I can neither be nor give you that.” Loki reached into his tunic to reveal the pendant hanging around his neck. He removed it and held it out for Thor to take, the gesture symbolic. Their journey had come to an end and now Thor had to return home. “Thank you for this token,” He smiled, “It’s done its work; it has kept me safe.”

Thor shook his head. “No, it’s yours,” He said as he folded Loki’s fingers around the wood and held his hand, “It’s my gift to you.” Then, with amusement in his vibrant gaze, he added: “Besides, Sif wouldn’t be pleased if she knew you gave it back. She spent hours making it.”

That was enough to draw a chuckle from Loki’s lips. He had wondered about her, if she was okay, but Hogun had informed him that she was all right. It seemed he and Sif got along well – what with the both of them outcasts. It had taken Hogun years to prove his loyalty to the Jotun and Sif knew what that was like. Loki looked forward to seeing her again before she would leave, too.

“Can’t I convince you?” Thor asked after a short silence, hope filling his voice.

“No, you can’t,” Loki sighed sadly. He pulled his hands free and placed them in his lap, the hammer-shaped pendant tightly between his fingers. “Asgard needs you on the throne and I am needed at my brother’s side. Our kingdoms need to be rebuilt. We have obligations we can’t forsake simply because we love each other. Our people come first.”

Smugness flickered behind Thor’s bright eyes. “You love me?”

Despite the arrogant, spoiled prince that resurfaced, Loki leaned forward and pressed his lips against Thor’s, the kiss more gentle this time, not a sign of desperate longing for each other, but a sign of acceptance and valediction. “I do,” He said truthfully, sincerely, “I love you, but you’re not mine to have, because you belong to Asgard, to its people.”

Thor sighed heavily. “A life filled with duties and obligations.”

“I never thought I would say this,” Loki started as he brushed a hand down the side of Thor’s face and looked him in the eyes, “But you will be a good king. You’ve grown … wise and kind.” He picked up Thor’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Don’t expect me to ever repeat that again. Just … don’t screw it up and keep Sif close. She’ll make sure you don’t revert to your old self.”

“Did you really compliment me?” Thor asked with amusement ringing in his voice.

Loki didn’t reply, and while he wanted to smack the man on the head, he didn’t either. Besides, he was sure he lacked the strength.

For a while, they sat together in silence, which bothered no one. It was a nice change, in fact. Thor spent every day speaking and listening during the peace-negotiations lately, and to Loki, the sounds of battle still lay fresh in his mind. It was hard not hearing cries of despair and agony echo through his mind, but Thor’s presence calmed him. But while he would enjoy spending the entirety of the day with him, it was simply impossible.

“You should go,” He said after a long silence, “You have duties to perform.”

Thor stared into his eyes, long and longingly, before he released a heavy breath and nodded. “I shall come and visit again,” He said as he rose and squared his shoulders. A broad smile filled his features and caused his eyes to be alight with excitement. “Now rest. You look a little pale.”

-x-x-x-

Despite the fact that he could hardly walk, Loki had managed to get out of bed with the help of two servants – even Hogun had refused to help him this time, thinking it irresponsible – and made his way through the halls of the castle. The two servants held him tightly and Loki had to remind himself every other second to breathe. But he made it to the throne room in one piece.

The room was crowded, but silent. Noblemen and women parted for him and bowed their heads in respect. Whispers carried through the air, but Loki ignored them all. Yes, this was his first public appearance since the final battle and, yes, he probably looked seconds away from passing out, but he only had attention for the man standing before his brother, shaking hands and talking softly.

“Brother!” Helblindi called out once his emerald green eyes found him in the crowd.

At that, _everyone’s_ attention turned to him, much to his dislike. The two servants stepped back once Helblindi folded an arm around his middle and Hogun flanked his left side, ready to offer support should the need arise. Thor came to stand before him, a disapproving look in his gaze. He was dressed in his finest outfit and a golden crown rested upon his head.

“You fool,” Thor accused adoringly.

“It is impolite not to wish a king a good journey,” Loki forced out. His chest was heaving and a thin layer of sweat covered his brow. He’d underestimated the journey from his chambers to the throne room.

Thor removed his gloves and handed them to one of his personal servants. Then he stepped forward and, as soon as Helblindi stepped back, he curled an arm around his hips and pressed his hand to Loki’s lower back, steadying him and keeping him upright. “So you’ve come to say goodbye?” He asked, seeing straight through Loki’s façade. None of them cared that others stood around them, watching them with curious eyes.

“I have,” Loki confessed. He rested a hand on the side of Thor’s neck and another on his chest. He focused on the calm, steady beating of his heart.

“You could have summoned me,” Thor said.

“You are king,” Loki replied. He looked up at Thor and stared into his bright blue eyes – eyes he might never see again. Eyes he _should_ never see again. “And I’m but a prince. I have no right summoning you.”

Thor hummed a deep and vibrating sound. “You never cared for rules,” He said.

Loki melted in Thor’s embrace and kissed him. The whispers grew louder around them, but Loki shut them out. He focused on the feeling of Thor’s lips against his and let himself be carried away by memories. The first time they had kissed was after he had learned of his father’s death. They had kissed after Thor had given him a horse to ride towards his freedom. And they had kissed the evening before the penultimate battle. It seemed their hopelessness and desperation had always driven them, and it did now again.

The mere idea that this was their goodbye, their true and final goodbye, had Loki deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across Thor’s lower lip – Thor who eagerly let him in. Loki’s hand fisted Thor’s collar and he moaned when he felt Thor’s hand brush down the side of his face. But then it ended, leaving Loki without breath and he feared he would actually collapse should Thor let go now.

He blinked a few times, chasing away the daze that had momentarily come over him, and rested his forehead against Thor’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Loki,” Thor breathed.

Loki pulled himself out of Thor’s arms and felt eternally grateful that his brother instantly helped support him. He latched onto his upper arm, fully aware his nails were digging into Helblindi’s skin, but at this point he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at Thor and inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down before he managed a small, acceptant smile.

“Goodbye.”

-x-x-x-

“Here you are.”

Loki looked up from the book to find his brother approaching. He looked oddly out of place, because Loki couldn’t remember the last time Helblindi had visited the library. “You sound surprised,” He said as he threw his gaze back down and finished reading the sentence, “But you knew I was here, because I’ve been here for the past twelve weeks.”

“Yes, ever since you could walk around without help,” Helblindi said. He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Loki, his hands folding in his lap as his gaze swept across his little brother, no doubt to search for remaining signs of fatigue. But Loki had been well lately and the stab wound he’d received during the battle was nearly healed. It had been over three months now. “I’ve never understood how you could spend so much time down here,” Helblindi said, frowning as he glanced around.

Loki followed his example and he had a faint idea that he saw the room much differently than his brother. Where he saw rows and rows of bookcases reaching from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, Helblindi probably saw boredom. The floors were made out of old, cracked stone tiles – stones Helblindi probably wanted to replace, but Loki couldn’t bear that idea, because on this floor, their ancestors had walked. Large, colored glass let in sunlight, casting the entire place in red and orange shadows. Dust twirled through the air.

“There are thousands of books here,” Loki said as he returned his gaze to Helblindi, “I could spend a lifetime in this place and still not have read everything.”

“Yes, you always took after mother more,” Helblindi smiled fondly, “Do you remember when we were children that she would always come here after dark, after having wished us goodnight, to read? She said she found peace within the pages of a book.”

It had been a while since he had thought of their mother, Queen Farbauti. Loki nodded, because he did remember. “And we would sneak out of bed and come find her here and she would read to us,” He said and only now did he realize just how much he missed their mother and father, “I always listened, enthralled, while you were mostly running around, knocking things over.”

Helblindi laughed warmly. “And father knew to find us here, but he was never angry.”

“He adored listening to mother’s voice,” Loki sighed. He close the book in front of him, knowing he wouldn’t get any more reading done today, and leaned back in the chair. He could feel Helblindi’s intense gaze on him, saw the concern in his emerald green eyes, but he’d stopped telling him not to worry a while ago. He’d learned Helblindi would always worry about him.

“Why did you come to me?” He asked after a short silence. “Not to reminisce our childhood and our parents – I know that much.”

With a heavy sigh, Helblindi cast down his gaze. Loki could practically hear the ticking of his thoughts, but he said nothing and waited for his brother to speak, knowing that he probably wouldn’t like what Helblindi had to say. Otherwise he wouldn’t look so … conflicted.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the invite,” Helblindi finally said, and Loki could feel his chest constrict, breathing momentarily becoming impossible. Loki shifted in his seat and wished he could get lost in one of the books lying before him again. But the truth was that he _had_ heard about the invite. He’d simply hoped no one would bring it up.

Loki closed his eyes and ran a hand across his face, using the brief moment to collect his thoughts. “Yes, I’ve heard,” He answered with a soft, croaky voice.

“Will you accept?” Helblindi asked.

Loki locked gazes with his brother. “I will not,” He said with a stronger, more determined voice, “I respect Sif and she will be a good queen, but I rather avoid watching Thor marry her.” He inhaled sharply and willed away the ache to his chest.

“Why didn’t you go with him?” Helblindi asked suddenly.

The question took Loki off guard. “What?”

“I know he asked and I know you refused.”

“My place is here,” Loki answered, indignantly, “You are the only family I have left and I cannot abandon you.”

“Loki–”

“I vowed I would be at your side when you enthroned,” Loki continued stubbornly, “Our land is still recovering from the war and you believe I would consider leaving it all behind out of selfish ambitions?”

“They aren’t selfish,” Helblindi counter-argued, but his voice never rose in volume. He looked steadily at Loki and radiated nothing but calmness. “I think you have sacrificed enough. And I appreciate your advice, I truly do, but I am surrounded by council-members who know what they are speaking of.” Helblindi wetted his lips before adding: “I love you, brother, but I don’t need you.”

Loki stared at his brother, unsure of what he was hearing exactly. “Helblindi …” He started, only to be clueless as to what else he wanted to say. What could he say in response to those words? They weren’t meant to hurt him, he knew that, but they still felt like a dagger to his heart.

“You’re unhappy,” Helblindi said. He leaned across the table and folded a hand around his little brother’s wrist. “You think I don’t see that? I have known you for twenty-eight years, Loki, ever since the day that you were born. I’ve known you since father set me down on a wooden chair and placed you, just a small crying bundle, into my arms. He told me that it was my task to protect you as your big brother.”

Tears burned the corners of his eyes and he didn’t trust his voice, so he kept quiet and continued to stare at Helblindi.

“I haven’t been able to protect you,” Helblindi admitted dejectedly. He squeezed Loki’s wrist, drawing Loki’s attention towards the touch. “After all the battles you fought in our father’s honor, after all the horrors you have gone through at The Allfather’s camp and after nearly dying to stop this war, you deserve happiness, brother, but you won’t find it, not here.”

“It’s impossible,” Loki forced out, “Helblindi, you should know better than anyone that a king has responsibilities, like marrying a queen, and Thor is fulfilling those responsibilities. There is no place for me at his court.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Helblindi offered.

At that, Loki’s eyes snapped away from their hands and towards Helblindi’s face. He found his brother smiling again, hope in his eyes.

“Kings often take lovers,” Helblindi said quietly.             

Loki pulled his hand back. “I respect Sif too much.”

“She is an honorable woman,” Helblindi said, “A respected warrior and very beautiful. Very intelligent, too, and from what I have heard, she is very much aware of the relationship you and Thor developed. Did she not encourage it?”

Loki hated that his brother had learned so much about his time at The Allfather’s camp during his negotiations with Thor. During the evening, when Loki hadn’t been strong enough yet to leave his bedchamber, he and Thor had often spoken about him during dinner. It had helped Helblindi understand but, much to Loki’s surprise, he had never pitied him for it.

“I made my decision,” Loki said, refusing to entertain the idea of traveling to Asgard’s court and meeting Thor there. He and Sif would marry and that was for the best. Loki had no right tainting that union. “You may travel to Asgard to attend the wedding, but I will not be joining you.”

Helblindi sighed, but inclined his head. “Very well.”

The wedding wasn’t mentioned again.

-x-x-x-

The warm sun on his face felt nice. Loki couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out here, on the training fields outside the city walls. Sounds of metal clashing against metal reached his ears and Loki glanced to his left. Warriors were training novices, teaching them how to hold a sword properly and how to block attacks. Loki halted and watched them for a moment. The novices held promise.

He continued walking then, his emerald green eyes moving across the training fields. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been here. It must have been months, from before he was taken captive by Thor. Just thinking the name made Loki’s heart skip a beat. He’d hoped the feelings would subside after a while, that the longing would disappear, but he was wrong.

Silently, Loki picked up a bow and felt the weight in its hand. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. Perhaps he was finally tired of spending every day in the library. Perhaps he was in dire need of fresh air. In any case, he found himself pulled to this particular weapon. Loki picked up a few arrows, too, and walked towards the round, straw-made target.

After nudging the arrow in place and lifting the bow, Loki stretched the bowstring back as far as he could. Thor’s voice whispered into his ear. _‘Loosen your grip,’_ it said, _‘Use your pointer finger to decide the trajectory.’_ Loki closed his eyes for a few seconds and inhaled deeply. Slowly, the muscles in his hands relaxed. _‘Stretch out your thumb,’_ Thor’s voice murmured to him, _‘Until you can put it behind your neck.’_

Loki swallowed heavily and opened his eyes. He focused on the bull’s eye and shifted his hold on the bowstring a little. _‘The tip of your nose needs to touch the string,’_ Thor reminded him softly. Loki tucked his chin in a little until it did, waited for a windless moment, and then let the arrow fly. It hit the center of the target.

“I do not remember you being so good with a bow and arrow,” Came a heavily accented voice.

Loki lowered the bow and turned to Hogun who had been watching him, his arms crossed before his chest and an impressed look on his face. “I’ve been practicing,” He explained as he took another arrow and nicked it in place. He turned back to the target and, after a few seconds, hit the bull’s eye a second time. With a pleased grin, he turned back to Hogun.

“Who taught you?”

The question had his grin faltering. “Thor,” He answered anyway, no matter how much it pained him to say the name. He truly had to let go of him, but even after all these months, it was still impossible.

He bit down on his lower lip and returned the bow and arrows to their place. He was done for today. And truly, he knew he was acting ridiculous. How long could one stay in love with someone who they hadn’t seen in months? Thor had married nearly ten months ago. It was time to accept that he was building a life with Sif.

“The king would be jealous if he saw your skill,” Hogun said. They walked back to the castle, side by side, and Loki was grateful Hogun hadn’t continued the conversation with Thor as the topic. Then again, he knew how sensitive it lay. “Shall we practice with the swords tomorrow?” He asked. “Your wounds are completely healed. You should stay fit.”

Loki nodded and glanced sideways at his friend. “I’d like that.”

-x-x-x-

After blocking the blow, Loki darted sideways and knocked the blunt edge of his sword to the back of Hogun’s knees. A loud laugh escaped his lips as Hogun stumbled forward and nearly fell down. “Come on now,” He taunted amiably, “I’m starting to believe you are letting me win on purpose!”

Hogun growled, spun around, and attacked once more. They had been at it for over an hour now and they were already completely drenched in sweat and dirt. Their chests were heaving and their muscles were sore, but they weren’t tired yet. For the past few weeks, they had come to the training fields every afternoon to practice swordsmanship and they usually didn’t return to the castle until sundown.

Loki lost his balance as Hogun knocked his sword against his thigh and he fell down when the man kicked at his feet. With a dull thud, he landed on his back and all air was instantly knocked from his lungs. For a brief moment, Loki squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath, and when he opened them again, he found Hogun hovering above him, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“You were saying?” He drawled with an accent even thicker than usual.

“You do realize that I’m your prince, do you not?” Loki asked with his eyebrows raised. Hogun laughed in response, but held out a hand for Loki to take so he could pull him back up to his feet. “I find your lack of respect disturbing,” He muttered as Hogun continued to laugh.

He brushed dry dirt off of his black and green tunic and mumbled some more under his breath. He’d beaten Hogun perhaps three times since they had started training and, frankly, it was becoming infuriating. Still, he was regaining his strength and agility. It was only a matter of time before he started beating Hogun systematically.

“Again,” Hogun said as he took another offensive position and raised his sword.

Loki grounded his feet into the grass and tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword, only for his attention to be drawn to a rapidly approaching servant girl. Her long skirt wavered around his legs and Loki admired the speed of the girl. He walked towards Hogun – Hogun whose gaze was trained on the girl, too, now – and handed him his sword. His dark gaze snapped towards him and he nodded once, understanding what was expected of him. He walked towards the other practicing warriors and stored away their swords.

“My Lord,” The girl said as soon as she came to a halt before her prince. She was out of breath and clutched her side. “King Helblindi demands your presence in the throne room.”

Hogun returned.

“Why?” Loki asked, instantly concerned. He directed his gaze towards the city, towards the highest point on which the castle had been build, but everything appeared peaceful enough. Still, it was highly unlike Helblindi to _demand_ his brother’s presence.

“Visitors from Asgard,” The girl explained. She shifted her weight from one foot to another and winced, her grip on her side tightening. “The king is here, my Lord.”

 _Thor_.

Thor was here.

Loki’s mind momentarily blanked, but then he blinked and got a grip on his himself. He had to. “Hogun, make sure this girl gets back to the castle safely,” He ordered. Her spleen was obviously hurting from having run so long and so hard. “See to it that she is rewarded and that she rests.” He didn’t wait for Hogun’s nod, though he caught it in the corner of his eyes. Already having turned away, Loki hurried towards Nausikaä, the horse neighing as he approached.

There could be a hundred reasons why Thor was here. Perhaps there were problems with the peace-treaty. Perhaps the dynamic between the two kingdoms had shifted and new terms needed to be negotiated. Or maybe Thor wasn’t here at all! What if Odin had reclaimed the throne? Fear moved around Loki’s heart like a claw, its nails digging deep into the muscle.

People darted aside as Loki rode through the streets, heading towards the large gates of the castle. What would he do if he really did find The Allfather in the throne room and not Thor? His mind flickered towards the daggers he kept hidden near the small of his back and in his left boot – it was better to be safe than sorry, because he was still the prince and princes had enemies.

He handed the reigns to the stable boy and quickly headed towards the throne room. Perhaps he should clean up first, but his curiosity was too overwhelming to be ignored. He could wash and redress later. First, he needed to know why the king of Asgard was here, whichever king that was.

The doors to the throne room were open when he arrived. As always, two guards stood on either side, which told Loki that this wasn’t a crisis-situation. If it had been, there would have been more guards and the doors would certainly not be open. His pace slow and his fear slowly dissipated, relief replacing it. Still, he couldn’t get rid of the questions filling his mind.

When he stepped into the throne room, he found two men standing by the throne. His brother’s hands were folded before his stomach and his gaze instantly sought his. Loki stared at him for a long moment, then blinked and shifted his attention to the second person present. Thor looked … like he remembered him to look. He didn’t wear a golden crown or a regal outfit. He wore black boots, black trousers and a red vest. His blond hair was tied into a short ponytail near the nape of his neck and his beard was at least a week old. It suited him. It made him look older and wiser.

But it was his bright blue eyes that held Loki’s attention. He stared at them and found himself unable to move. It really was him – King Thor – but that still didn’t explain anything.

“Loki,” Thor said, and it sent a shiver down Loki’s spine. He hadn’t heard that voice in over a year and he had forgotten how deep and vibrating it sounded. He had forgotten the pull it had. “You look well,” He added with a smirk playing around the corners of his lips.

Loki’s gaze snapped down. He really should have cleaned up first. “Do you think it wise to insult the king’s brother?” He asked with amusement ringing clearly in his voice. When he glanced back up, he found Thor smiling at him. He hurried forward and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck and pulled him down, their lips meeting for a kiss.

Thor’s hands moved to rest against his hips, and Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across Thor’s. He’d missed his warmth and he’d missed his taste. Eyes closed, Loki let out a soft little moan when Thor sucked on the tip of his tongue before pulling away. Loki’s cheeks flushed red when he remembered Helblindi was present, too, and then regret filled him when he remembered Sif.

He pulled out of Thor’s embrace and pressed a hand to his lips. “I apologize,” He forced out, breathless.

Footsteps sounded behind him and Loki glanced over his shoulder to see Hogun entering.

“Loki,” Thor said, asking for his attention again – attention he gained instantly, “I have a queen.”

Loki pressed his lips together tightly and felt something hard and heavy fill his stomach, making him feel nauseous, because _of course_ Thor had a queen! He had gotten the invite to his wedding, but he had refused to go. So _of course_ he couldn’t kiss Thor ever again, because now he truly belonged to another, to Sif who was perhaps the only person worthy of having him.

“And I will have an heir in a few weeks’ time,” Thor continued. Loki blinked at that, the information not instantly making sense, and when it did he felt tears burn his ears. He didn’t know why Thor was telling him this. Had he come all the way to Jotunheim’s capital to remind him that they could never be together? He couldn’t be that cruel. He wasn’t like that anymore. “I have what I need. Now can I have what I want?”

He couldn’t breathe anymore.

Nothing made sense.

“Loki, I have come to take you home with me,” Thor explained, that broad smile of his still in place. He closed the distance between them again and placed a hand on the side of Loki’s face, his thumb brushing down Loki’s cheek.

“But …” Loki’s gaze darted around the room. Helblindi stood by the throne still, unmoving, but with a ghost of a smile playing around his lips. Hogun had gone to stand beside him and when their gazes locked, he nodded once, encouraging Loki to continue speaking. Loki gazed back into Thor’s bright, hopeful eyes. “But Sif,” He got out.

“Sif told me not to bother returning without you,” Thor explained with a chuckle, “When I protested, she said she could rule Asgard alone and what frightens me the most is that she actually could. And my mother agreed with her.” There was shock in his eyes, but it was feigned, and it was enough to draw a laugh from Loki’s lips, because yes, if there was one person who could rule a kingdom on her own, it was Sif. “I wouldn’t mind letting Sif rule alone, I wouldn’t mind staying here if that meant I could be with you, but I would like to see my daughter born.”

Loki cleared his throat and blinked away his tears. “A daughter?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Sif is sure of it,” Thor said, “She hopes she will have my looks and her intelligence.”

Another laugh escaped him, but then he hid his face behind his hands, because he desperately needed to get a grip on himself. He had never thought he would see Thor again – would have avoided him until the end of his days if he had to, to avoid the pain of having to say goodbye each time – but here he stood, before him, and Loki felt overwhelmed. Thinking was still impossible.

“Loki, come with me,” Thor whispered to him.

Lowering his hands, Loki glanced at his brother. ‘ _I love you, brother, but I don’t need you,’_ He had said, ‘ _You deserve happiness, but you won’t find it, not here._ ’ And he’d been right. He hadn’t lived the past few months. He had survived.

“Yes,” He breathed as his gaze returned to Thor’s.

“Yes?” Thor echoed hopeful.

Loki straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He inhaled sharply and steadied himself. He hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time. “Yes,” He said determinedly before leaning forward and brushing his lips against Thor’s. The kiss was light, almost chaste, and it was enough to get his point across. When he pulled back a few inches, he found Thor grinning like the fool he was. “I will go with you.”


End file.
